I Am the Shadowman
by london'slonelyhearts
Summary: It's been one year since Dean returned from Hell; he and Sam have been on the road, hunting as many monsters as they can until they come across a young girl who claims to know them. An O/C character. I can't summarize things, please give this a try. The first chapter isn't the best, but I promise you it does get better! I have big plans. I do not own Supernatural.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

**Just to be clear on the timeline and scenario of this story, as far as the writing fairies have told me, Ruby does exist, but her appearance will be minimal, if any. Sam has gone through his demon blood phase already and he and Dean are trying to get back on the road. **

CHAPTER ONE

It had been a year since Dean returned from Hell. Although he and Sam had picked up where they left off, there were still complications in their relationship. Sam seemed darker; his hatred for the demons and monsters that they hunted seemed extreme. And as much as Dean liked Sam's new no tolerance for the baddies, he still caught himself flinching every time Sam ganked one of the sons of bitches.

They were on their way back to the motel after a particularly nasty hunt involving an overly enthusiastic poltergeist that enjoyed plastering the walls of a home with the resident's entrails. Luckily, he and Sam had exorcised it before it got to the new family, but the kids were definitely going to need therapy.

"Dude I can't wait to get this gunk off me," Dean said as he turned down the radio. Sam had switched it over to some god awful country station, filling the Impala with the sounds of either an ostrich playing a banjo or the screeching of a dying cat.

"You'd think we'd remember raincoats each time we do this," Sam replied, staring down at his favourite shirt which now had half dried ectoplasm staining it.

"At least it didn't burn like last time," Dean stated. He pulled some AC/DC out of the cassette box and put it in the player, filling his head with what few good childhood memories he had.

Since he had gotten back from Hell, he found that most nights, he had to hum Hey Jude to get to sleep; Sam didn't seem to mind, but Dean wasn't sure how much longer he could go without a good night's sleep.

They pulled into the motel at just around 3 in the morning, their eyes heavy with sleep. Dean had almost fallen asleep while driving, but finally decided to pull over and let Sam finish the drive home. Dean entered the motel room first, but instead of the lights being turned off like he and Sam had left it, all the lights were turned on, making the room almost blinding.

When he and Sam's eyes adjusted to the light, they noticed that their beds were neatly made, their clothes had been folded and placed at the edge of each bed.

Raising their guns, they turned their attention to the bathroom, where the shower faucet was being turned off. For a second, Dean thought he heard someone humming. Sam looked over at Dean, his eyes unsure of what to do. They didn't have to wait long however, as a young woman stepped out from the bathroom. She screamed and kicked the guns out of their hands before promptly kicking Sam into a wall. Dean reached to grab her, but she flipped him and threw him to the ground, her legs and hands pinning him.

"Jesus Christ you guys scared the hell out of me!" she yelled at Dean as he struggled against her grip. _What the hell?! _he thought as he tried to pry her fingers from his wrists, to no avail. This girl was tiny, all of 130 pounds maybe, and here he was, unable to move an inch.

"Before you freak out or I don't know, over react or anything, just relax. I'm not a demon," she explained, her hazel eyes pleading.

"And how exactly do you plan on proving that?!" Dean grunted, continually trying to get her off of him, as much as he liked that kind of position on a woman, he didn't like the fact that this kid had him stuck.

"I don't know, maybe-" She didn't get the chance to finish her sentence before Sam pulled her off of Dean and splashed her in the face with holy water. She stared at them disapprovingly before spitting out the water that had found its way into her mouth and nose.

"Okay, so I'm not a demon. Happy now?" she asked, holding the towel to her body.

"Not yet princess," Dean said as he stood in front of her, his arms crossed. Sam pulled a silver blade out from his back pocket, the girl immediately stiffened.

"Look, I don't want any trouble."

"Good, then put out your arm," Sam said as he went to grab her wrist. She quickly pulled back.

"No." Sam grabbed for her arm again.

"Back off! I have an allergy to silver dumbass! I break out in itchy disgusting hives okay?"

"How are we supposed to know if you're a werewolf or a wendigo?" Sam asked.

"Looks like you're just gonna have to trust me Rambo." Dean stared at the girl, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in our motel room?"

"The name is Grace. Don't wear it out," she said as she went back into the bathroom, Sam and Dean took a few steps towards her. "Woah woah woah, no boys allowed," she continued as she quickly shut the door and locked it.

Dean looked over at Sam, who looked back over at his brother. Sharing quizzical and confused looks, the two brothers wandered around the room, unsure of what to do. Sam checked the bed side tables while Dean looked under the beds for hexbags. It was under the bed that Dean found it, Grace's bag. He opened the zipper and dumped the contents of it onto the bed. Asides from an obscene amount of fake credit cards and maps, a journal was shoved into the bottom. Dean held it up, grinning at his find. Sam gave him a glare before speaking,

"Dean we are not going to go through her diary!"

"How else are we going to know who or what she is?!"

"You could start by asking me," Grace said as she exited the bathroom fully clothed. Her taste in clothes was far from the traditional hunter style, if her bright purple X-Men t-shirt was any indication. She tousled her hair, filling the room with the scent of the woods. "Hope you don't mind Sam, I used some of your shampoo. I thought they were lying when they said you had fabulous hair, but I guess not! It's like a lion's mane or something!" she laughed as she sat on the bed and began putting some rainbow socks on.

Sam stared at her while Dean held in the urge to laugh. After receiving a glare from his brother, Dean quickly coughed to hide his smile and gave Grace his best poker face.

"Alright. Enough of this whole rainbow-sparkle-princess-not-a-demon-shit, who are you?"

"I already told you Dean," she stated simply before leaning back on the bed.

"Tell us again," Sam said as he sat against the opposite wall. Grace sighed as she crossed her legs.

"My name is Grace, I'm 19 years old and I'm a hunter."

"How do you know our names?"

"I'll admit I was unsure if I would be able to tell you two apart, your names are kind of stuck together in the hunting world. But someone described you, Sam, as a moose so when I saw you, I knew I had the right room. Not to mention all the plaid. You know you're in a hunter's room when there's plaid everywhere."

Sam charged towards her, his face filled with impatience. Grace skirted up the bed, pulling her knees to her chest.

"Answer the question," Sam breathed, his voice low, a tone he usually reserved for demons. Dean moved a little closer, wanting to hold back his brother. It was clear by the expression on her face, that Grace was scared. "How do you know our names?"

"An angel told me."

Dean perked up. It had been a while since he had heard from Castiel, he prayed that this was the angel she was talking about.

"Who?"

"Castiel," Grace replied as she slid to the other side of the bed and away from Sam. She went around to Dean's bed where she began to put her bag back in order. "Jeez, did you have to dump everything? It's not like it's my private life or anything."

"How do you know Castiel? Are you an angel?"

The girl laughed.

"Hardly! You see Mr. Winchester, you and I have something in common," Grace stated, grinning, the excitement in her eyes shining.

"Oh really?"

Grace pulled up her sleeve to reveal a handprint burned into her flesh.

"Castiel saved me too."

**Author's Note:**

**I assure that this does get better. I'm terrible at writing first chapters, so please don't let this chapter decide whether or not you like this yet. **


	2. Is That Is that Ham?

**Author's Note: Hi follower! Thank you! I hope you like what's happening so far, let me know if there's anything that needs to be edited as it is unbeta'd. **

CHAPTER TWO

Grace pulled up her sleeve to reveal a handprint burned into her flesh.

"Castiel saved me too."

"Wait, what?"

Grace smiled as she jumped up from her place on the bed and sat next to Dean.

"I know right?! Who woulda thunk it? I mean one second, I'm on the rack and the next, BAM! Woke up in the middle of the woods." Dean was confused, but Grace's spunk and insane way of talking was simultaneously adorable and annoying. "And my old scars were gone too, hell, a whole new body. Cas said that there some tricky shit involved in bringing me back, said that he had to get me a whole new meat suit!"

"So this isn't you?" Sam asked. The last person that he had gotten involved with who had a meatsuit was Ruby, and he didn't want to introduce a new person into his life that he wasn't sure he could trust, especially if they wore someone else's face.

"It's okay Sam, this is what I actually look like. Just a neater, less decomposed me. My family had me cremated so that's why there was an issue with bringing me back. Apparently it took a lot of angel mojo to get me looking this fine," Grace explained as she motioned up and down her body. "Although I'm sure they added something to my boobs because damn, I did not have these before I was in the pit."

Sam tried to ignore the last part of Grace's dialogue, but found her constant chatter consistently echoing in his mind. He pressed his index finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose, a headache was definitely on its way.

"Hey, you okay?" Grace asked, her voice serious as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a headache."

"Oh, I have pain medication for that if you need it," Grace said as she went to her bag and grabbed a bottle of Aspirin. Sam took three.

"You should probably eat something too, those can be harsh on your stomach. Have you guys eaten anything today?"

"We had breakfast at around 11," Dean replied, grabbing a water from the mini fridge and tossing it to Sam.

"Jesus, you guys should eat more! You can't go hunting on an empty stomach," Grace exclaimed as she opened the fridge and pulled out two sandwiches and handed one to both boys.

Dean stared at the sandwich in his hands and then the fridge.

"Oh yeah, I put some food in there earlier, didn't want it going bad. Hope that's okay."

"Yeah that's fine," Dean said as he took a bite of his ham and cheese. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that he hadn't eaten in several hours, but this sandwich tasted fantastic.

"Is that… is that real ham?" he asked, his mouth full.

"Yep. There shouldn't be any other kind in my opinion," Grace laughed as she sat herself down on the bed. "You were gonna ask me something Dean?"

Dean swallowed his mouthful quickly and said,

"Have you heard from Cas at all? Since you got out?"

"A few times, but the last time I saw him was 2 days ago, when he told me it was time to find you."

"Find us? I don't understand…" Sam asked, trying to hide the fact that he was thoroughly enjoying the culinary masterpiece that Grace had given him.

"He said that we both needed time to readjust to life back here, and trust me, I know I did. I still can't get the hang of the ePod. But he said that once I was somewhat capable of hunting and passing as someone who grew up in this decade, than I could find you guys."

"How is he? Is he okay?"

"Cas? Oh yeah he's fine. A little tired I think, but he's okay," Grace replied as she yawned. Her journey was starting to take its effect on her.

"How did you find us?"

"Well, Cas told me where to go but that I'd have to go without him, so I hitched a ride here from some guy named Phil from Canada who was on his way to visit family."

"Why didn't he just zap you here?"

"I dunno, maybe he's busy. You probably know him better than I do."

"Where have you been all this time?"

"I spent some time with some hunters up in Canada, I knew some things before I was in hell, but they trained me really well. We took down a pack of vamps in Chicago about 3 months ago," Grace stated proudly. They sit there for a few moments, the only sounds heard were that of the occasional crunch of lettuce as someone took a bite.

"Not to be rude Grace, but we don't work well with other hunters," Sam stated. Grace laughed,

"Cas told me you'd say that. He also said that you'd have to 'suck it up.' Air quotes and all I might add."

The two brothers looked at each other, Cas was definitely getting better at using slang.


	3. We'll Look Out for You

CHAPTER 3

- 3 WEEKS LATER –

It definitely took some getting used to; having another person around. Sure, the guys had gotten used to Cas, but Grace was different. For one thing, she was a girl, which lead to some awkward situations when there was only one bed to be shared. Sam and Dean didn't mind so much, there had been a few occasions when they'd had to share a bed, but Grace was a girl. And usually one of the boys (whoever was willing to share each night) would wake up with her arm on their face or her leg draped over their stomach.

Grace, although proved to be an excellent researcher, had some difficulty in the field. Being only 19, but looking like a 16 year old, it was difficult getting people to take her seriously.

She was able to hold her ground though when the time came. Her quick thinking had gotten them out of quite a few speeding tickets, more or less.

"Just tell him that we're siblings and were watching the stars, when you, Sam, started to get a sharp pain in your right side and that we were on our way to the hospital," Grace explained as she sat back in her seat.

"Grace, trust me, that never works."

"I dunno, worked when I was in Canada. Sam, look like you're in excruciating pain."

"What?"

"Now!"

The patrol man walked up to the side of the car, his flashlight in hand. Sam made his best puppy dog eyes as the man gazed into the vehicle. He turned the light onto Dean and then Sam.

"I've been looking a long time for you boys," he stated before shining the light on Grace, "And the bitch too I see? This is turning out to be a good day." His eyes shimmered black.

"Shit!" Grace yelled as she quickly opened her door on the driver's side, knocking the demon to the ground. She jumped out and began to fight him, throwing punches when she could. Dean reached around to the backseat of the impala and grabbed the holy water and his dad's journal.

Sam had started in on beating the demon, but the demon did a swift kick at Grace, throwing her several metres down the road and into a ditch. She didn't move, but Sam heard the sickening crack as her skull hit the pavement.

"Dean!"

"I'm here! I got it!" Dean began reciting the exorcism. The demon flinched and screamed before exiting the body in a rush of smoke. The patrolman slumped to the ground, cold.

Sam and Dean immediately ran to Grace, whose head was bleeding. They pulled her out of the ditch and laid her on the road.

"Hey Grace?" Dean asked as he checked for broken bones. No response.

"Grace c'mon girl we need you, we kicked that guy's ass. Who's gonna gloat about it?"

"S…am? … Dean?" Grace asked, trying to sit up.

"Hey there," Dean said as he hesitantly pushed her back on the ground, "Try not to move okay? Sam's bringing the car closer so we can get you to the hospital."

"No."

"We have to take you there, you're hurt pretty badly. And besides, Sammy's bust his hand open on the dude's face, he's gonna need stitches."

"I'm… allergic to silver." Dean chuckled slightly,

"I know Gracie, it'll be okay. We'll look out for you." Grace shivered. Dean heard the car move forward and lifted her up in his lap. Sam got out and the two picked her up, wanting to move her as little as possible. She groaned slightly as they gently placed her in the back seat.

"The patrolman…" Grace whimpered.

"He's dead. There was nothing we could do."

"'N the demon?"

"He got away, but we'll get him Grace, don't you worry."

Grace passed out before she could respond.

It turned out that Grace's injuries were less severe than what they initially thought. She had a few scrapes here and there along with the gash on her forehead and a minor concussion. Sam had his knuckles stitched shut and they were out by noon later on that day.

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Bobby had thankfully let them stay a few days at his place while they recuperated. He left them the house, Rufus had called a few days earlier looking for a partner for a nasty ghoul. Dean had been trying to find the demon but no such luck.

"How goes the stitches?" he asked as Sam walked into the room, wrapping a new bandage onto his hand.

"Itchy."

"How's she doing?"

"Sleeping. I think her head's healing nicely. I can't see through all the gauze though," Sam replied as he took a seat across from Dean. He picked at his hand, the stitches were itching like crazy.

"When was the last time she changed the bandage?" Dean asked as he put down the book he'd been reading and went to the cupboard.

"I dunno, two – three days ago."

"We should change it," Dean stated as he held out some disinfectant, cotton and medical tape.

"Shouldn't we wait till she's awake? What if she freaks?"

"Is that a hint of fear I hear Sammy? Scared of a little girl?"

"No, I just think that we should wait till she wakes up, you know what's she like when we wake her up from naps," Sam defended.

"Did you see the meds they gave her? Top stuff. She's so zonked out on painkillers, she can't tell her ass from her elbow at this point."

Sam gave his brother a bitch face before grabbing the bottle of disinfectant from his brother's calloused hands.

Just as they made their way to the top step, Dean's phone went off. Holding his finger to his lips, he headed back downstairs.

"Yeah Bobby?" Sam heard his brother ask. Sam opened the guest bedroom door quietly, trying not to wake the sleeping figure. He tiptoed his way to her bedside where he turned the lamp on. Grace muttered something before turning her back towards the light.

"C'mon Grace, I gotta change your bandage," Sam whispered; he managed to turn her back over, letting the light hit her face. Asides from the gauze, she looked okay. He gently pulled the gauze up, expecting some puss and blood, but what he found was far from what he imagined.

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"I'm telling you Dean, there's nothing there. Not a scratch," Sam said, trying to keep his voice down.

"Maybe the light was off, Sam."

"No, I saw what I saw," Sam retorted, adamant. "Besides, don't you think there'd be stitches? There weren't any! It's like she wasn't even injured!"

"Let me see," Dean said as he headed up the stairs, skipping two at a time.

Dean entered the room, not bothering to be quiet like his brother had. Grace had remained close to the light, her hand outstretched over the edge of the bed. He tilted his head to get a better view, then he saw it, or rather, lack of it. Not even a scar. There was literally nothing. He checked her arm, where her other scratches had been, but there was nothing. Sam stood in the doorway, his arms crossed.

Dean stalked out of the room.

"Son of a bitch."

Back downstairs, the two brothers paced.

"I mean, how much do we really know about her Dean? And we haven't seen Cas, so how can we verify that she is who she says she is? How do we know that she's not some demon or something?"

"The holy water and devil's traps Sam. She's been using the shower and Bobby's rigged the water system with crosses."

"I dunno, maybe a werewolf? She's been touchy this week and the full moon's next weekend."

"Well the only way to test for that is silver," Dean said as he went to Bobby's China cabinet and pulled open a drawer to reveal various blades and knives. He pulled a silver knife out and stared at it a few seconds, contemplating.

"If she was a werewolf Sam, why would she want to help us?"

"I don't know Dean!"

"Let's just get this over with alright? I'm getting a headache," Dean said as he walked up the stairs a third time.

Grace was still asleep, light snores coming from her chest as she exhaled.

"Wake up," Dean said as he closed the space between them.

"Nngh," Grace mumbled as she turned over, once again turning her back to the brothers.

"NOW," Dean yelled, his voice shaking. Grace shot up, her eyes wide.

"What?! What's happening?! What's going on?" she asked, frantic.

"Give me your arm," Dean demanded as he sat on the edge of the bed, silver blade in hand.

"What? No."

"No point in arguing Grace, I'm going to get it anyway," Dean said as he grabbed her arm. Grace pulled back, and lifted her foot to kick him off,

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR GODDAMN MIND?!"

"No, but you're gonna lose your arm if you don't stop fighting."

"Cristo!" Grace spat, still trying to kick Dean off. Sam joined his brother in the battle against Grace's flailing arms and legs, trying to hold her down.

"We're not possessed Grace," Sam said, trying to avoid Grace's fingernails against his cheek. He grabbed both her wrists and pinned her to the bed.

"What the hell is going on?!"

"Your injuries, they're not there. You're allergic to silver and seemingly pop up out of nowhere with almost no explanation. How about you tell _us_ what's going on?"

"I told you, Cas sent me here- OW! MOTHERFUCKER!" Grace screamed as Dean slit the knife down her arm, leaving a trail of blood and blistering red flesh in its wake. Dean swore.

Grace cried into the pillow, her arm stinging like fire as her skin tried to heal, but the silver had left 2nd to 3rd degree burns, making it almost impossible for her to heal. Sam continued to hold onto her wrists, the weight of him on Grace's chest and the pain from her arm was almost too much.

"Grace, what the hell?!" Dean yelled as he got up from his place on the bed.

"I told you. Cas sent me," Grace hiccupped.

"Enough lies! Tell us the truth!"

"Okay!" Grace cried, turning her head to Sam, "Just get off. I can't breathe."

Sam looked at his brother before hesitantly letting go. Dean stood at the end of the bed, his knife still in hand.

"Give me a reason not to stab you in the chest. Tell me what you are. I want the truth Grace."

"I'm a skinwalker."


	4. Not So Bad After All

CHAPTER FOUR

**Author's Note: Hi guys! I hope you like what's happening so far, please feel free to leave a comment or criticism, but do be kind. Thanks again for the follows and faves! **

"Give me a reason not to stab you in the chest. Tell me what you are. I want the truth Grace."

"I'm a skinwalker."

Dean stopped.

"What?"

"I'm a skinwalker," Grace repeated as she got up from her bed and went to walk to the door, but Dean blocked her. "Look, I'm going to the bathroom to clean this up okay? Ask me all the questions you want, just let me clean this."

"That won't be necessary. Sam?"

Sam threw the disinfectant and the cotton onto the bed. Grace sighed before sitting back down and opening the bottle.

"Start talking. We want to know everything," Dean said as he sat in the chair opposite her. Sam leaned against the doorway, not entirely sure how to respond. Hell, Dean didn't know what to do. He wanted to kick himself for being an idiot and not realizing what she was sooner. The fact that she knew so much about werewolves and skinwalkers, more than your average hunter; she must have been researching it for weeks.

"My mum was sick. The doctors gave her a few weeks, maybe a month. I researched everything I could find about a cure. I ended up in the occult section of the library where I read about Crossroads demons," Grace said. Dean dragged his hand down his face, exasperated. "I was desperate! What else was I supposed to do?! I didn't even think it would work! But it did and my mum was cured. And I went to hell. For ten years I stayed, until Castiel saved me."

"Ten years? You mean months right?"

"No. Ten years. Full Earth years."

"But that's over what, 1000 years?"

"Yes. I was changed about 3 months after I got back. I was with a group that had been hunting this pack of skinwalkers for months. We thought that we were only taking down a pack of 20 maybe 30. Difficult, but not impossible. We were so wrong. Turns out the pack stretched out across 3 cities, they must have had over 100 there. It was insane. We were completely outnumbered," Grace said as she began to dab at the blistering flesh, gasping as it burned. "They got my team. Killed them. Ripped their hearts out."

"How did you escape?" Sam asked.

"I managed to make to the car that we came in. Not before they did this though," Grace said as she lifted up her shirt, exposing her back. Long deep lines were etched into her skin, near her shoulder a chunk of flesh was missing, the scar tissue still a little pink. "Look, I should have told you okay? That was my mistake, but I knew that if I did tell you, you'd jump the gun and stab me."

"You don't know that," Dean replied. Grace snorted.

"You're the Winchesters, you're not exactly known for your ask questions now, shoot them later methods," Grace stated as she continued to dab at the blisters. "It was never my intention to freak you guys out. I just, I didn't know how to tell you and I needed you to trust me and like me before I told you. I knew there would be less chance that you'd just stab me if you liked me."

"We're obviously going to have to change that," Dean said as he got up and closed the space between them. Sam straightened up, unsure of his brother's intentions.

"Are you going to kill me?" Grace asked quietly, her eyes brimming with tears.

"No."

Grace sat, stunned. Sam stared, he didn't understand. Dean didn't normally hesitate.

"We're not going to kill you Grace," Dean continued as he stepped back. Looking up to the sky, he called out for his friend. "Cas? You get your feathery ass down here! We know abou-"

Cas appeared beside Grace. She jumped, as did the Winchesters.

"Hi Cas," Grace breathed. He nodded before placing a finger along Grace's arm, healing her instantly.

"What seems to be the issue Dean?" the angel asked as he stood up.

"What's the issue? What's the issue?! Cas, we haven't heard from you in weeks! And Grace, don't even get me started on her!" Dean said as he pointed the blade at Grace, not out of anger, but habit.

"It is my fault. I told her not to tell you until I said it was alright," Cas explained.

"But why?" Sam asked, walking towards his friend.

"It was very important that no one be aware of what Grace is. If any hunters or demons were to find out, it would put you all in danger. As long as you believed that she was human, there would be no issue. And I assure you that Grace is a most loyal and trustworthy ally."

"I don't understand any of this Cas," said Dean.

"I wouldn't expect you to," the angel turned to Grace, "Is anyone else aware of what you are?"

"I don't think so."

"Good."

"Hey Ca-" Dean started but his friend was gone. "Great. Just great."

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Grace sat at the kitchen table, her legs crossed underneath her while she sipped her tea.

"Can you please stop staring at me? You make me feel like some kind of freak," she said as she shook Dean from his thoughts. She wrapped her bathrobe around her, but it did nothing to take the chill from her bones.

"Sorry."

"I know you don't like talking Dean, but please talk to me. Anything is better than you looking at me like that. Heck, yell at me if you want! Lord knows I deserve it!"

Dean said nothing.

Sam walked through the doorway, his cell in hand.

"That was Bobby, he said he has a case for us. Poltergeist in a town about three miles from here. It's pretty bad apparently."

"Great. Let's go," Dean replied as he headed into the next room. Grace's gaze followed him.

"He won't talk to me," she stated sadly.

"It's only been an hour Grace. You need to give him a little more time than that," Sam said as he sat down across from her. He placed his hand gently on her knee.

"How much? And why aren't you mad at me too?"

"I know what it's like to hide a part of yourself to protect the people you care about," Sam replied as he got up from his chair and went to Bobby's desk to get the necessary equipment for the hunt. "And you were doing what Cas wanted."

"I still should have told you guys."

"It's kind of late for that, but you may be able to help us out on this hunt," Sam said.

"What? How?"

"Would you be able to shift? Into a dog I mean?"

"Uh, yeah. I don't see why not. Why?"

"Because dogs can see poltergeists. Humans can't," Sam said with a grin.

Grace smiled.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.


	5. Dumbass

**Author's Note: Hi guys! Once again, feel free to leave comments, criticisms etc, but do be kind. Thank you to the lovely people who are continuing to read and post comments! You people make my day! This, I think has to be one of my favourite chapters so far. Hope you like it as much as I do! **

CHAPTER 5

It had been a rough few weeks. After the poltergeist that Bobby found, things seemed to go almost back to normal. Grace had found them a hunt, but finding all of the information and history that they needed had proven exceedingly difficult. The ghost that they were looking to exorcise had bided it's time well, waiting for the right people to walk the few steps up to the old farmhouse. A young woman had been murdered on the grounds, her ghost had haunted the place for over 70 years. The house was supposed to be torn down in a few days and a new suburb put in, but the woman had caused a lot of trouble, a lot of bloodshed. It didn't look like she would let up any time soon either.

After a lot of searching, they had managed to find her bones, buried in a shallow grave along the deep woods at the edge of the property. Despite the grave being as shallow as it was, the earth was wet and muddy from the day's rain, making it take twice as long to dig her up than it would have normally. Grace was not happy (she was never one for mud), which promptly led Sam to say,

"But you're a dog, dogs love mud!"

Grace laughed and then glared, sticking her tongue out at him as she chucked a fistful of mud at Sam's head.

"Okay ladies get a move on. I want out of this hellhole," Dean ordered. Sam hit him in the chest with a mud ball, making a loud SPLAT! as it sunk into the fabric of Dean's shirt.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"I want a nickname," Grace declared, leaning against her shovel as the two boys continued to dig.

Dean and Sam shared looks before saying in unison,

"Dumbass."

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The drive home was a long one, the roads were getting treacherous as they took each turn. Grace, being the backseat driver, got reprimanded a few times for making "casual reminders" about how to drive an older car such as Baby. After getting yelled at, Grace sat back in her seat, trying to hold back the nausea that she had been feeling since she had gotten into the car. She preferred walking, not riding.

"It's cold back here," she stated, her teeth chattering. Dean had been meaning to get the heat fixed in the car, it had been acting up lately.

"If you zipped up your jacket, you wouldn't be cold," Dead stated.

"I can't, the zipper broke this morning when I tried to put two sweaters on," Grace cried.

"Well that wasn't a smart move was it?" Dean replied. Grace slumped back in her seat once more, sighing.

"Why don't you come up here?" Sam suggested, shuffling over in his seat.

"Sam, there isn't enough room up here for us, let alone another person!"

"Well that's not an issue, just don't look back," Grace stated as she unbuckled her seat belt.

"Wha?" Sam asked as he started to turn around in time to see Grace pull her shirt over her shoulders.

Sam quickly turned back around, his cheeks burning.

"What's she doing?" Dean asked. Before Sam could answer, Dean felt a paw on his shoulder and heard the skittering of nails against Baby's upholstery as Grace scrambled over the front seat and onto Sam.

"Grace if you ripped Baby, there's gonna be hell to pay," he muttered, looking down at the scraggly beast that now sat on Sam's lap. He swore that he could almost hear her chuckle as she spun around 3 times before situating herself comfortably against Sam's chest. She was a raggedy dog and it never ceased to freak Dean out a little bit each time she shifted. To have her talking one second and barking the next was definitely what one would call surreal.

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Alistair smiled, his teeth stained red.

"Please. Please don't,"Grace cried, her throat filling up with blood. She vomited, the liquid that spilled from her mouth was filled with fleshy chunks, making her choke even more.

"Why not Gracie? Why not enjoy myself a little more?" he asked, his eyes shining black.

"It…hurts," she whimpered, trying to force back the vomit that continued to rise in her mouth.

"Well that's the whole point isn't it?" he grinned, holding up a silver knife. Grace's eyes widened. Not this again, she couldn't go through this again. Alistair leaned in close, his breath thick with heat and the metallic smell of blood. "Do you want to know what the best part is Gracie?"

Grace shook her head.

"It's real," he whispered as he plunged the knife into her chest, burning her lungs with the silver blade.

Grace woke up to the sound of the Impala driving off. She immediately grasped for her chest.

"Good. No knife, this is good." Grace got up from her bed, the sheets soaked with sweat, and tiptoed her way to the bathroom. She could hear Sam's moose-like snores emanating from his room down the hall. Dean must've gone out for a midnight drive. In the beginning, this somewhat worried her, not knowing where her friends were at all times. Dean called her paranoid, but he knew what that feeling was like; wanting to keep an eye out for family. After splashing some cool water on her face, she walked down the old wooden stairs to the kitchen, where she pulled out a mug and some tea that Bobby had kept there specifically for her. She sipped her tea as she tried to read some old books, but she kept seeing demons and hellfire amongst the pages. She'd have to inquire about getting some non-supernatural reads, maybe a cooking magazine or even a romance novel. Something – anything other than the stuff that found her during the day and haunted her at night.

She didn't have to wait long for Dean's return, her ears picking up on the impala's rumbling engine as it pulled into the long driveway. Grace slipped her jacket on, pulling it close to cover her aching chest. The knife may not have been real, but the pain certainly felt real.

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"Can we talk?" Grace asked as she took the few tentative steps to where Dean was sitting on the impala.

"Depends. What are we talking about?" Dean asked, cracking open a beer before handing it to her.

Grace rested against the hood, the engine still warm. The air was cold that night, trails of mist exiting their lungs as they breathed out. Grace sighed, veiling her face partially as she searched for the right words.

"I.. I want to ask you about hell," she stuttered out, her sentence barely audible. Dean stiffened. He was not going to have this conversation. Not with her. Not the girl that had lasted over a decade in hell without hurting anyone.

"No."

"Dean please!"

"We are not having this conversation Grace, not now," Dean replied, his voice low. With sadness or anger, Grace wasn't sure.

"But-"

"No."

"Fine. Don't talk about it. Do whatever you want to do Dean because that's what you do! You know they'll get worse right? The flashbacks? The more you try to repress, the more they'll come back. But they'll get worse. Horrendous even. You'll have days where you can't think straight. Where you can't eat because everytime you try you just throw up. Everytime you wake up you'll think you're back in hell, that what you're seeing isn't real. That it's just another mindfuck courtesy of Alistair. And you'll be so delusional by the end that you won't listen to anyone. And maybe you'll try to end it all. You think that if you die in hell, you gotta go somewhere else right?"

As Dean listened to her, he noticed just how much she had changed within the past few moments. He had grown so used to hearing her constant chatter that now, when he finally got to see what she had been holding back, holding in, he didn't know what to do. She was just as broken as he was. Her words resonated with him in ways no one else's ever had. She knew. He stared at her, watching the tears fall down her cheeks as she started to sob.

Dean shuffled closer over to her and gently wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. She let her beer fall to the ground, the froth splashing the underside and the front bumper of the impala. Normally, Dean would want to wipe it off immediately, but tonight, he didn't. He would do it tomorrow if he remembered. He didn't.


	6. A Handful You Say?

**Author's Note: Feel free to leave comments, criticisms etc. I love hearing what you guys have to say! **

CHAPTER 6

Grace woke up in her bed late in the morning, having gotten the first decent sleep she'd had in weeks. Wiping her eyes of the sleep that had collected there, she tried to move but found an arm wrapped around her. Her heart raced and panic filled her lungs as she struggled to get up. She turned her head, trying to see who or what had her pinned before seeing a freckled nose and forehead shoved into the pillow beside her.

"Dean?" she whispered. Managing to check underneath the sheets, she found that she was still clothed thank God. As much as she liked Dean, he was more of a brother to her than anything.

"Mhm?"

"Are you awake?" she asked, still trying to get out from under his arm, but he just pressed himself closer to her. Grace was getting hotter by the second, the sun was bright in her face and Dean's body was a furnace.

"Nngh," was Dean's reply before pressing himself even closer to her body. Grace sighed as a drop of sweat rolled down her face.

"How is it this hot in here? Jesus, it's like hell," she whispered. Her flannel pajama bottoms were seriously annoying and the heat was starting to piss her off. "Dean, wake up, it's hot and I can't breathe."

"No."

"Wake up."

"… Later…"

"Fine, you asked for it," Grace said as she managed to shimmy out of her pajama bottoms and tank top (no sense in wrecking them). Now, being in nothing but her bra and underwear, she shifted, shaking Dean from his slumber. Startled from the sudden lack of heat, he sits up in time to see Grace trot off the bed and down the hall. Smiling, he slumped back into the bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

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"How ya doing sleepy head?" Bobby asked as he poured Grace a cup of tea.

"Pretty good. I got an great sleep for the first time in weeks so I think it's gonna be a good day. Yourself? How did your hunt go?"

"Not bad. Rufus is getting reckless in his old age, killing every damn thing he can find. He'll be dead by Christmas if he keeps this up," Bobby replied as he sat down at his desk and began pouring some whiskey into his coffee. Grace raised her eyebrow.

"Want some?" he asked, holding the flask out towards her. Grace smiled before reaching out. "Wait, you 21 yet?"

"Hardy har har," Grace laughed as she grabbed the bottle from his hand and took a sip. "I'm older than Sam Bobby, I think I can have a drink."

"Wait, you're older than me?" Sam asked as he walked into the parlour.

"Not physically obviously, but technically, I'd be 29 right now."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. I was 18 when I went in the pit, 10 years there and one here," Grace explained. She got up from her seat and began to go through Bobby's books, her nose crinkled from the dust as she went along the shelves.

"Weird," Sam chuckled.

"I know right? I feel like a five year old half the time."

"You act like one too," Dean said as he wandered down the stairs, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet from the shower. "Freaked me out this morning with the whole naked thing by the way."

Grace blushed.

"Well, you were heavy and it was pretty frickin' hot."

Sam and Bobby shared confused glances before Dean and Grace burst into laughter at the realization of their choice in words.

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- A FEW DAYS LATER –

Bobby grabbed his usual cup of coffee before heading towards the parlour; the old books that were crammed into the shelves were in desperate need to be organized. He figured that he could ask Sam or Grace to fix them, knowing Dean he'd grumble and bitch the entire time. Grace was more than willing to help out around the place, especially with cleaning. He smiled, Karen was like that, the house constantly smelled like lemons when she was around.

He sat down at his desk, the mahogany wood had gotten many chips and scrapes over the years, the cracks making up the majority of the space. Shifting to put his knees under the desk, he heard a small whimper. He quickly jumped away from his seat, swearing as he did so. Grace scooted out from under the desk, her fur covered in dust as she went to sit on the couch opposite him.

"Grace ya idjit, you nearly scared me to death!" Bobby said as he went to sit back down. Grace chuckled, her laugh distinct and understandable even in dog form. "Laugh it off why dontcha, see if you get any bacon later!" Grace whimpered before trotting over and placing her head on his knee. "Yeah yeah I hear ya girl. Bacon's the best yaddah yaddah yaddah."

"Talking to yourself again Bobby?" Sam asked as he entered the room, groceries in hand.

"Hardly, this one," Bobby said, pointing to Grace, "Scared the daylights outa me this morning."

"She has a habit of doing that," Sam laughed as he placed the bags onto the counter before opening a small salad. Taking a bite he sat down at the small kitchen table and began looking through the newspaper for the weather. Grace jumped up on the chair beside him, her nails scratching the linoleum as she did so. Placing her paws up on the table, she stared at Sam, her eyes going from the container of bacon on the counter and back to him, to the container and then back at him. Sighing, Sam got up from his seat and opened the package. Grace barked, her tail wagging.

"Do you know how weird this is for me? I'm making bacon for a girl that can turn into a dog that looks like a cross between Winn Dixie and Toto!" Sam said as he grabbed a frying pan.

Grace nudged his thigh with her nose, pushing him towards the stove.

"Okay, I'm making you bacon, what more do you want?" Grace walked over to the fridge and tried to open it, crying when she couldn't. Sam laughed as he went over and opened the door. With mock enthusiasm he continued, "What is it girl? Did Timmy fall down the well?!" Grace growled and then pulled out the loaf of bread. "You want toast too?" Grace barked. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day," he mumbled as he began to cook the bacon. He tossed her a piece, but it fell to the floor. Grace stared at it. "C'mon man, five second rule," Sam said as he popped some bread into the toaster. Grace huffed at it before sitting down. "Fine." Sam took another piece out of the pan and held it in front of her snout, just as she went to bite it, he pulled away. They continued this back and forth game until Grace jumped up, causing Sam to fall on his ass. She pulled the bacon out of his hand and happily hopped up the stairs, her tail wagging the entire time.

"She's a handful that one," Bobby laughed, pouring himself another coffee, void of the whiskey.

"Definitely."


	7. Control Your Skinwalker in 6 Easy Steps

CHAPTER 7

**Author's Note: Hi guys! I hope you are all doing well and I am so happy that people are following! Hi new followers! Please leave a comment or a criticism (they really do make my day!). Sorry about the lack of updates, I've been working on another idea for another fanfiction (Criminal Minds and Supernatural crossover) so hopefully it will be good. Leave a comment or send me a message if you'd be interested in reading something like that! :D Anyways, we shall continue…**

Grace woke up to the smell of old leather and pine. Sitting up in the backseat of the impala, she found herself naked. A jacket had been tossed over her, which she put on. _Shit_, she thought; she had started shifting while she was asleep in the past few weeks. She figured it was stress from the occasional nightmare, but she and Dean had spent most of the nights together. His arm wrapped protectively around her, fighting the demons that haunted her sleep. Dean too had gotten better sleep, sensing another person's presence had brought him some comfort while he dreamed. He missed Cas. Shifting didn't bother Dean in the slightest, but it embarrassed the hell out of Grace.

"_I don't understand why you're freaking out," Dean stated, sitting up in the bed. _

"_Because Dean, it's embarrassing. I'm naked."_

"_It's nothing I haven't seen before."_

"_But it's me. Shifting is personal, being naked is personal. Not all of us have stellar bods and the confidence to go with it," Grace replied, her voice hitching as she wrapped a blanket around her. Sam had left them to go get coffee and breakfast, which Grace seemed to need more and more of despite her sleep. _

"_I just don't understand why it keeps happening. I mean, I'm not scared each time I go to sleep and things are going good."_

"_We can look it up today when we go to the library," Dean said, hiking up a pair of jeans. Grace sighed. _

"_What do you expect to find; _How to Control Your Skinwalker from Shifting in 6 Easy Steps for Dummies_?" _

_Dean laughed. "Something like that."_

Realizing that she was alone in the car and her clothes were locked in the trunk, Grace looked around as best as she could. Peeking her head up, she saw a gas station a few metres away. People were piling out of the small diner that rested beside it, having just finished their Sunday brunch.

"Mommy, there's a nudy lady in the car!" Grace froze. _Oh God. Oh God. Shit._ She turned her head to the left where a little boy was waving at her through the window. Thankfully, the mother wasn't paying any attention and Grace ducked below the seat and shifted. She heard tapping at the window and looked up; the little boy was staring at her, his eyes wide. "MOMMY! SHE TURNED INTO A DOG!"

"That's nice sweetie. Let's head home," the mother said as she dragged the boy over to a red minivan.

"But mommy! There's a dog lady in the car! Can we keep her?!"

"No honey, we can't keep a dog lady. Mommy can't handle any more animals in the house with your father."

Grace laughed slightly before jumping up on the leather seat.

"All I'm saying is that Grace could totally kick Wonderwoman's ass, I mean, c'mon, a fricking truth lasso. A truth lasso!"

"Dean, she's an Amazonian. I think it'd be a safe bet to assume that Grace would lose," Sam opened the car door before ducking inside. Grace barked from the back seat, making Sam jump and hit his head off the roof. Dean grinned as he sat in his usual spot.

"Give me some paw," he said as he held out his open palm. Grace shook her head, sending spit flying onto the side of Dean's face.

"Awe c'mon! Seriously? Again with the spit?" he complained. Grace craned her neck forward and snatched the To-Go bag from Dean's hand. "Hey! My pie's in there!"

Grace turned her back to the boys and began to rip open the bag.

"Give me my pie!"

She turned around and growled playfully, the bag in her mouth. Dean reached for it, but Grace darted behind Sam and then back out of Dean's way.

"If you don't stop it you're sleeping in the car!"

Grace jumped up into the front seat, kicking Dean in the face as she went to sit on Sam's lap.

"Why does she always do the spit thing with me?" he groaned as he rubbed his sore jaw.

Sam laughed.

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The trio continue to drive for hours, having found a case in Nebraska. The sun had started to set, casting a golden glow along the hood of the impala.

"Where are we?" Grace said once she had shifted, Sam jumped.

"Didn't know you had shifted," he said as he turned to face her.

"Hey! I'm naked back here!"

Sam turned back; Dean laughed at his brother's rose tinted cheeks.

"You keep doing that Sammy, and Grace is gonna think you're trying to catch her naked."

"Very funny," Sam replied as he shuffled lower in his seat.

"Awe did I embarrass you Moose?" Grace said as she tried to cover herself as best as possible. "Dean, can you pull over? I need clothes."

Dean turned off the paved road and onto a side road. Old corn stalks stuck up in amongst the dry dirt, giving Grace some coverage as she changed into the t-shirt and jeans Dean had gotten her from the trunk. She hop skipped her way to the car, pain written on her face as she stumbled inside.

"And keep your dirty feet off my seats!" Dean exclaimed, pointing a finger in her face.

"Jeesh, cause you know I was gonna rub my feet allll over the seats, just to piss you off," Grace said as she stuck her feet to the floor. "We got any wet wipes? I hate dirt in my shoes."

Sam opened up the glove compartment and handed her a package of travel wipes.

"So as I was saying, where in the heck are we, Alaska?"

"You suck at geography, you know that?"

"Of course, but that's why I have you Moose," Grace laughed as she patted Sam on the head.

"Why do you keep calling me Moose? Where in the hell did you come up with that?"

"I'll never tell… If it's any consolation, I have one for Dean too." Dean stared, his eyes wide.

"You.. you do? What is it?"

"Nope. My lips are sealed."

"Not cool."

"To see your faces right now, now that's cool," Grace said a she handed Sam the wet wipe package back.

"Can we get food? I'm starving," she stated, leaning over the front seat to face the boys.

"Soon. We're almost at the Roadhouse," Dean said as he looked at the clock. "Another 20 minutes and we'll be there."

"Do they have good food?"

"If Ellen's cooking, some of the best. If Jo's cooking, not bad. She has a tendency to burn stuff," Sam replied.

"Are they nice?"

"Yeah, Ellen's gonna try and act all motherly towards you, just warning you now," Dean explained.

"I dunno about that," Grace sighed. "I mean, what if she freaks when she finds out what I am?"

"We'll just explain it to her first. You hang back with Jo and we'll handle the big guns."

"Okay. Don't make me sound scary. Or weird. Make me sound nice, and, and-"

"Annoying?" Dean finished for her, grinning.

"Hardy har har. You know what I mean."


	8. Holy Water & Onions

**Author's Note: Hello lovely readers! I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to update, end of the year projects and stuff, we're just coming up on end of the year exams, so I probably won't update for about 2 weeks. If I do get the chance though, I will certainly update! :D Thank you for the wonderful reviews, you have honestly no idea just how much I appreciate them! I'm so happy that people like this! **

CHAPTER 8

True to Dean's word, they arrived at Harvelle's Roadhouse in 20 minutes. Dean parked his car off to the side, muttering something about other hunters and their terrible driving abilities. Grace grabbed her backpack from the trunk and they headed inside.

The old place looked more like it popped out of the 1800s, with the old wooden siding and the overhang. Enjoying the space around her, Grace could see for what looked like miles. Nebraska was sweet smelling and she could still smell a hint of summer corn in the air. It was nice to stretch her legs after the long car ride. Spinning around, she let her hair fall loose, framing her face. The grass was wet underneath her feet, tickling her toes. The sky had grown dark, the only lights were that of the Roadhouse sign, casting a red glow onto the road and soft shadows onto the faces of the trio.

"Okay princess, get inside before you break something," Dean said as he held the door open for her.

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"You need shoes in here," Jo said to Grace as she wiped the bar counter. Grace stared down at her feet.

"Oops. Sorry. Dean, I need my shoes," Grace said as she turned to face the eldest Winchester. As she walked out the door, he tossed her the keys. Heading to the bar, Dean smiled,

"Howdy barkeep."

"Hello Dean. MOM!"

Sam smiled as he sat alongside his brother, Jo opened some beers for them both.

"Well if isn't you boys," Ellen said as she walked behind the bar, grabbed a bottle of water and held it in front of them. "You know the drill."

Dean sighed.

"Holy water? Really Ellen? We walked past the devil's trap and the salted doorway and you want us to drink holy water?"

"Don't sass me. Drink. Silver's next."

Grace walked through the door, her shoes tied loosely. She sat next to the boys, her anxiety evident on her face.

"And who might you be?"

"Grace," she whispered quietly, looking down.

Dean smiled at her, it was odd to see her so nervous and shy. She was anything but when she met them, but stick her in front of a woman with a bottle of holy water and she's as scared as a newborn kitten.

"Well Grace, how about you take a swig of this to be sure you're not a demon?" Ellen said, smiling.

Dean took a sip before passing it to Grace, who grimaced.

"I don't want to be rude, but how many people have drank out of this?"

Dean smirked.

"Careful Grace, your germophobia is showing."

"Shutup," she said as she took a swig of it. "Oh god, it tastes like ass. What the hell's in this?"

"Sorry, I had onions on my burger at lunch," Dean grinned as he spun around on the stool.

"I swear, you're like giant five year olds," Ellen stated as she reached behind her at a wooden box. Placing it on the counter, Grace could see that the box was old, worn down notches having been carved into the wood. Grace swallowed, and Dean could see out of the corner of his eye that a small bead of sweat had started to form along her temple.

"Uh, Ellen, can we talk real quick? It's important," Sam asked, his words rushed. Ellen stopped, stared at the group before placing the knife back in the box.

"Sure boys, what's up?" Ellen asked, her face tender.

"Can we talk in private?"

"Come around back, Ash left to pick up some supplies. Running low on pretzels. Jo honey, you hold down the fort."

"Got it mom," Jo said as she grabbed a gun from under the bar and placed it up on the counter. Grace stared, her eyes wide. Ellen and the Winchesters headed to the back, Dean gave Grace a small smile before turning to follow his brother.

"You scared around guns?" Jo asked, cleaning a glass.

"Not particularly. They're just loud," Grace replied as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"So how long have you known Sam and Dean?" Jo enquired, her knuckles tight along the rim of the glass. Grace got the feeling that this was quickly turning into an interrogation rather than a friendly chat. Looking around at the empty seats, Grace noticed just how quiet the bar was, the only sound coming from the old fridge in the back that was wheezing and the sign outside that flickered and buzzed.

"A few months, although I met Dean about a year and a half ago."

"How?" Jo asked, sounding unenthused.

"Mutual friend," Grace said as she smiled a bit too bright. Silence fell over the two as Jo continued to stare at her. Grace felt her blue eyes burning into the side of her face as she tried to look anywhere but at the blonde in front of her.

"Is it possible for me to get something to eat? I haven't eaten for a few hours and you know, a girl's gotta eat," Grace asked, gesturing to a pile of menus off to the side.

"Sure, just don't make it too complicated; my mom's more of the cook around here," Jo stated.

"Totally," Grace looked over the menu before deciding, "Macaroni isn't complicated is it? It's been forever since I've made it."

Jo sighed before heading back into the kitchen. She returned about a minute later with a steaming bowl and tossed her a spoon from the far end of the bar. Grace caught it on instinct rather than choice. As soon as the utensil hit her skin, she gasped and let it drop to the floor.

"Shit!" Grace yelled as she stared at her burned hand, the flesh bubbling. She reached for her bag, but the sound of a gun cocking stopped her.

"Don't move," Jo said as she held the gun up, pointing it at Grace's chest.

"Jo, let me explain," Grace replied as she put her hands up. "Please."

"What are you? A werewolf?"

"Skinwalker actually. Not nearly as vicious," she laughed nervously as she took a step back. "Just keep calm okay? I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Shut up. I've dealt with your kind before, I know what you do," Jo said, her hands shaking slightly as she continued to stare down the barrel of the gun.

"Please Jo, I'm not a thr-"

Grace didn't finish her sentence before getting shot in the chest. The silver pellets burst through her skin like stars, exploding inside her body like supernovas, ricocheting off of her ribs and internal organs. She flew back against the wall and down to the ground, not moving.

**Author's Note: Ya didn't think I'd leave without a cliff hanger did ya? *evil laughter***


	9. Scared

**Author's Note: I am so sorry about the lack of updates guys, exams were crazy and moving back in took way longer than expected. I promise that I will update more frequently, and on the off chance that it will be a while before I update, I will be sure to let you guys know. I hope everyone' s doing well and thank you so much for the comments, they truly make my day. If you have any critiques or there's particular moments that you like or dislike, please leave a comment, I'd love to hear what you think! **

CHAPTER 9

Jo cocked the gun a second time as she walked her way around the bar and to where Grace was lying, a steady stream of blood pouring from her wounds. She watched as the small blood and acid bubbles popped as they escaped Grace's torso. Jo's hands shook as she aimed for a second fire, she was shocked somewhat, having expected Grace to die immediately rather than being the mess that she was now.

"Jo, what the he-"

"Oh my God!" Sam yelled as he and Dean ran towards Grace.

"No! Don't touch her, she's a skinwalker!" Jo said as she struggled with Sam for the gun. He ripped it from her hands, put the safety on then threw it across the floor.

"It's gonna be okay Gracie, everything is going to be okay," Dean said as he tried to stop the bleeding.

"Jo, call 911," Ellen said calmly as she grabbed some napkins from a nearby table.

"But mom-"

"Call 911. Now. She's no harm to us."

Jo went to the end of the bar where the phone was and began dialing.

Grace looked up at Dean, blood bubbles bursting at the corners of her mouth. She gasped for air as Sam and Ellen tried to stem the bleeding with the napkins, but their efforts were useless. It wasn't the blood loss that was killing her, it was the silver. The molten liquid was entering her bloodstream, poisoning her with each passing second.

"Dea..n," she whimpered.

"Shhh. It's gonna be okay Grace, just keep breathing okay? Keep breathing, the ambulance is on the way. They'll be here soon," Dean said as he placed her head in his lap, blood seeped into his jeans, it felt hot to his skin.

"Jo, what kind of bullets?" Sam asked, his voice strained from worry.

"What?"

"What. Kind. Of. Bullets."

"I don't know! The ones that were in the gun, obviously silver."

"Wait boys, I think I got one," Ellen said as she pulled a small chunk of metal from Grace's stomach. It was then that they saw it, a small drop of silver leak from the end, dripping onto the floor.

"Shit," Sam replied.

Dean swore under his breath.

"That's… that's not good," Grace stated, her voice breaking. Turning her head, she threw up over Dean's arm, blood spraying across the floor. "That's… really not. good."

Sam took off his shirt and applied pressure, but there was so much blood. He watched as it filled the cracks in the floor and sunk deep into the wood.

"I can't go… I haven't done….," Grace cried. She reached up, her fingers already stained with blood, Ellen grasped her hand,

"Its gonna be okay baby, everything will be fine. The paramedics know what they're doing. And it didn't get your heart."

Grace nodded. Her mouth opened, as if to say something, but was replaced by another bout of vomiting.

"Out. You. Gotta. Get 'em out," she stuttered, trying to get the words out as quickly as possible.

"Okay Gracie, we're gonna get them out," Dean said, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in her face. "Jo, get me tweezers." Jo ran to the back room and paused in the doorway, she felt sick. There was all that blood. So much. She looked back at the hysteria in the next room and felt worse. Had she known how important she was to the Winchesters, to Dean, she wouldn't have done it. Swallowing back the bile that rose in her throat, she grabbed the tweezers and passed them to Dean.

"This is going to hurt, but it'll be better soon okay?" Dean continued, he passed the tweezers to Sam, who had cut open Grace's shirt, revealing the full brunt of the damage. Dean cringed; he could see her organs. Bleeding and twisting and bubbling as the acid sunk deeper and deeper into her body. "Where are the damn paramedics?!"

"Jo, go outside and flag them down!" Ellen replied.

"Scared," Grace whimpered. Dean looked at her, she was pale. She was fair skinned to begin with, but this, this was a sickly pale. The only colour on her was the red that was staining her skin. Sam swore.

"Dean, it's not working. Even if I get the bullets out, she's poisoned," Sam whispered, trying to keep calm.

"Keep trying," Dean stated.

"They're here!" Jo yelled, the paramedics behind her.

"They're here Gracie, you're gonna be okay," Dean said, relief washing over. He looked down at the girl in his arms, she stared back. "Grace… Grace!"

Blood rushed to his ears as he felt the back of his neck heat up. All he could hear was the pounding in his ears as the paramedics went to grab Grace from his arms. Sam helped to pry Dean's fingers from her. They ripped open a small package and placed two plastic stickers to her chest. Sam pushed Dean back, held him back. Jo and Ellen stood off the side, holding each other. One word repeated in Dean's mind.

_Scared. _

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**Author's Note: And another cliffhanger! MWAHAHAHAHA! (Just kidding, I'll update within 2 days or so). Before I forget, (I think I may have mentioned this in another chapter), but I'm currently working on a Criminal Minds and Supernatural crossover, so if anyone's interested in reading that, let me know! **


	10. Damn Good Pain Meds

**Author's Note: Hello wonderful people! I hope you are all doing well! Thank you for the wonderful comments and messages, I've said this before (and I'm sure I'll say it again) but they truly do make this a great experience for me. I never thought that I was a good writer (and I know that there's room for improvement) but thank you for sticking with me and continuing to read and write comments. **

CHAPTER 10

Dean stared at the scene before him. His shirt had been a light blue before that night, but now, only a deep rusty brown and black remained on the fabric. He folded the shirt up and took one of the scrubs that a nurse had given him. He would need more than a new shirt to fix the way he felt. Blood had covered the majority of him, sinking into his skin. It would take a few showers to get the metallic smell and shine out of his flesh.

"Hey man, they're here to talk to us," Sam said from outside the bathroom, his voice shaking. Sam had already washed his hands for a solid five minutes, his hands being the only things other than his knees that had been covered in her blood.

"In a minute."

"Okay."

Dean stared at himself in the mirror, the lights flickering slightly at the gaunt reflection. A few small traces of blood had managed to find their way up along his neck and collarbone, most likely from when she had thrown up. Splashing some water onto his face, Dean tried to calm down. After drying his face on the small hand towel, he threw it at the wall, tears brewing in his eyes.

He hated how much he cared right now. I mean, it wasn't like she was family or anything, Dean thought to himself. She was a nuisance, a babbling-neurotic-Mozart-loving nuisance. Why did he care so much about someone he had only known for a few months? Bobby's words came to him almost automatically. _Family don't end in blood boy. _He wanted to throw up.

"Dean?"

"Coming," he replied, passing Sam by, his shoulders back, his chest out, like his father had trained him to be when the going gets tough. Sam followed, his eyes soft.

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"She's in intensive care where we'll be keeping her until she wakes up. She's responding well to the medication we've given her, but we will have to keep her under a mild anaesthetic for the next few days," Dr. McCain said as he tapped at his clipboard. Dean wanted to smash the plastic piece upside the doctor's head, but decided that it was in his best interest not to.

"Can we see her?"

"I think it would be best if you were to head home and get some rest, she's a strong girl, she'll be fine for a few hours," he replied encouragingly.

Dean scoffed. He was not leaving Grace alone, completely defenceless, while under anaesthetic.

"If we're done here," the doctor said, turning away slightly. Sam nodded, letting the doctor continue his rounds.

"If he thinks that we're leaving her like this, he is dead wrong," Dean stated, walking towards Grace's room down the hall. Sam jogged slightly to catch up,

"Look Dean, he's right okay? We can't do anything here, and she's not going to wake up for a few hours at least. You need to go home and get some sleep."

"No."

"Dean-"

"Sam, we are not going anywhere. We are not leaving unless she is coming with us!"

"Okay fine, we'll stay. But we can't stay out here in the open," Sam said as he made his way back toward the elevator. Dean hesitated, then followed.

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- A FEW DAYS LATER -

Bobby walked through the set of glass double doors leading onto the floor and nearly ran into Sam when he turned the corner.

"Oops. Sorry Bobby."

"Don't worry about it. Where is she son?"

"Follow me," Sam replied as he walked through another set of double doors across the hall. Rays of sun shined through the windows, lighting up the few dust particles that floated through the air. Bobby had been around a few hospitals in his time, a few dead bodies too, but the disinfectant smell that radiated throughout this place was always the worst. It burned his nose and ached in his lungs.

Sam opened a door at the far end of the floor and gestured for Bobby to enter. Dean sat in the corner, his leg propped up on the foot of the bed. His head was back, his mouth agape as he snored quietly. Bobby patted his tie to his chest, the boys had initially called him in as their insurance agent.

"She okay to come home today?" he asked, his eyes filled with worry. Grace looked anything but better. Her face was sunken in, her skin still pale. Her lips were chapped and an oxygen tube was taped to her face.

"She's asleep right now. The doctors said that she should be fine, but to bring her back if she starts bleeding again or if she shows any signs of infection. We checked her stitches and we should take them out today, if she heals with them inside I don't know what will happen."

"Once we get home we'll take them out," Bobby replied as he moved towards her side. Dean bolted up, his chair falling back as he posed his body ready to fight. "Relax boy, it's just me!"

Dean shrugged,

"Sorry Bobby."

Grace stirred, mumbling something about Spaghettios.

"Hey Gracie, how ya doin'?" Bobby asked, "What happened?"

"'Tis merely a flesh wound," she grinned, her eyes half closed.

Bobby laughed. He could tell that he would never hear the end of this, the boys were sure to take numerous videos of Grace and show her later when they'd be able to appreciate her full embarrassment.

"Well princess, we're going to be taking you home today, how does that sound?" Dean said as he sat alongside her on the bed.

"Awesome opossum."

"Those meds are pretty good aren't they?" he laughed, his voice full of relief.

"The best," Grace giggled.

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Despite her disproval, the boys wheeled her out of the hospital and to the impala.

"I can walk," Grace said stubbornly as she got up from her chair and attempted to hobble towards the car. "WaitnoIcan't," she rushed out as she faltered. Sam grabbed her arm, preventing her from falling completely. He carried her bridal style the rest of the way to Baby, her arm draped over his shoulder. Dean opened the door and fastened her seatbelt.

"I can do it," she grumbled.

"Would you stop being a stubborn pain in the ass and let us help you?" Dean grumbled back, his lips turned up in a grin.

"No."

"Well that's just too bad because you're going to."

"Nooooo," Grace whined. Dean chuckled.

He turned to Bobby, who stood by his classic rusted out truck.

"See ya soon boys."

Once everyone was strapped in and Grace was as comfortable as she was going to get with over 200 stitches, she asked,

"Can I pick the music?"

"Only if it's awesome," Dean said as he passed the cassette tapes back to her. She smiled and Dean was sure her face was going to crack if she kept smiling like that. Damn good pain meds. Dean hadn't realized just how good until Grace started talking,

"Speaking of music, what is One Direction and why is there only one? Aren't there five kids in that band? If there's five, why is there only one direction? Shouldn't there be five? There's too many boy bands, there's N'Sync, the Backstreet Boys, 98 degrees," she said as she counted them on her fingers, "Whatever happened to the Backstreet Boys? I know Justin Timberlake is all into music and movies now, he's pretty isn't he? And New Kids on the Block. MARKY MARK AND THE FUNKY BUNCH." Grace yelled as she looked through the tapes. Sam almost spit out his water as he choked back laughter. Grace continued to flip through Dean's tapes, she came across one,

"Awe yeah Nirvana, LURVE IT!"

For the first time in a long time, the Winchester brothers laughed until they cried.

**Author's Note: I just wanted to say that I had an absolute blast writing Grace in this chapter. Speaking of writing, keep an eye for another writer in the upcoming chapters. Can't wait to hear what you think! **


	11. We Need Milk

**Author's Note: Hello wonderful people! Once again, thank you for the reviews and follows! I hope you're all doing well and enjoy how this little story is going. Sorry for the lack of updates, the original story line that I had planned was not working, so I had to completely rework a lot of what I had written. What I have posted however, has not changed, so there's no reason to go back! **** Just wanted to explain the lack of updates. Anyhoo, onwards we go!**

CHAPTER 11

As soft whimper escaped Grace's lips as they gently laid her on the couch. Sam grabbed the medical kit from the cupboard and sat on the chair that Dean had placed next to her. Dean sat on the edge of the couch, his body leaning over, trying to get a view of the damage. Her stomach was bright fuchsia from the disinfectant, she inhaled sharply and then winced, her stitches pulling on the raised pink flesh.

"It's okay, we're just gonna take out your stitches," Sam whispered, his voice soft. He snipped at the black threads that held her internal organs inside and grimaced. This was going to be far from fun. Luckily, Grace's pain medication was very effective, and it was a few minutes before she was in a deep sleep, her face calm. Sam picked at the stitches, cutting and pulling them out with great care, his lips pursed in concentration. As he moved onto the next set of stitches, he noticed that the previous ones were already leaving little lines of pink and white, no bruising or nothing. Sam grinned. The healing properties that Grace's body had were pretty incredible.

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Grace woke up slowly, the pain killer dulling her senses slightly as she struggled to get out from under the blanket. _Dean, _she thought to herself. He always put a blanket around her, even if she complained that she was too hot. She liked that about him, the little things. Like how if she woke up from a nightmare, he'd lie there and run his fingers through her hair or how when she got tired or fell asleep he'd carry her up the stairs. Or how when she shifted and the car got too hot, he'd roll the window down so she could stick her head out. And Sam. She loved Sam, how they could talk about history and how he'd teach her stuff about hunting but he wouldn't be mad or make her feel stupid that she didn't know it, but be happy because he got to share that knowledge with her. She was happy. They were her family.

"Hey, how you doing? Feeling better?" Dean asked as he waltzed into the room, a beer in hand. Grace shuffled out of the blanket, wincing slightly.

"Okay I guess. It feels like my organs are gonna fall out. Which is pretty surreal might I add."

"Yeah, I can imagine… Do you remember what happened?" he asked, sitting on the opposite side of the couch, her feet resting on his lap. She paused, thinking.

"I remember meeting Jo and Ellen," looking down at her stomach, and laughing lightly, "I take it it didn't go too well?"

"Jo got a little freaked. We should have told them at the same time, but we thought that it would be okay… I'm sorry," Dean replied.

"Don't."

"What?"

"Don't apologize Dean, there's no reason to," Grace stated. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was an accident, there wa-"

"An accident? A fricking accident? Grace, Jo shot you! She was going to kill you because we – because I didn't tell her!"

"Would you stop being such a self-deprecator? It's very Twilight of you," Grace joked.

"Grace, do _not_ compare to that sparkly dude. Ever," Dean replied, his tone serious. Grace stared at him for a few seconds before laughing. She gasped, pain shooting through her stomach.

"Ow!" Dean leaned over her, his hands supporting his weight as he looked over her stomach.

"What is it? Don't bust a stitch on my account," he said. Grace continued to giggle, but held her sides as she teared up.

"What is it?" Dean demanded, drawing his face closer. Between the tears and laughter, Grace replied,

"The only way you would know that he sparkles is if you read the books or watched the movies!"

"What?" Dean repeated, laughing,

"You're a closet Twihard, just admit it!"

"You've mistaken me for the other Winchester, princess," Dean smiled. His face softened and he watched as she continued to laugh at him, tears streaming down her face. He loved seeing her like this, her really laughing, even if it was at his expense.

It was here that he noticed for the first time, the freckles that dotted along her face, and the two that she had by her ear. How she had a little scar on her cheek from where a branch scratched her on a hunting trip, how when she smiled, her ears perked up a little, like a dog's. How when she got laughing really really hard, she didn't make a sound at all and on rainy days, she'd sit by the window, listening to some classical music because the sound of rain and thunder bothered her and how sometimes, when the light hit her eyes a certain way, they looked like the ocean, a deep rich blue with speckles of gold and brown. Right now for instance, her eyes were shining. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his. She gave him a quizzical look before smiling,

"What? What is it?"

Dean coughed, before sitting back at the far end of the couch,

"Nothing, just remembered something."

"What?"

"We need milk."

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The day passed by without excitement as Grace and the two Winchesters sat on the couch and watched a Star Wars marathon. Grace looked over at Dean, who normally mouthed the words, but he sat quiet, barely watching. He only moved when he jumped up from his spot halfway through The Empire Strikes Back, grabbed his keys and headed out the door to where Baby sat. Grace heard him slam the car door and crank AC/DC.

"What's with him? I've never seen him leave a Star Wars marathon before," Sam stated, placing a bowl of popcorn in front of both him and Grace. She smiled before taking a piece.

"Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Do we need milk?"

Sam paused, struck by the absurdity of the question,

"I just bought some the other day, so hopefully not. Why?"

"No reason, just wondered," Grace said as she got up from her place on the couch, stretched her legs and arms before flinching. "Ow, shit."

"You okay? Need more painkillers?" Sam asked, about to get up. Grace waved him off,

"No, I just need to stretch for a little. I'm gonna shift if that's cool?"

"No problem. Just let me know when you get in okay? I don't want to lock you out," Sam said.

"Okey dokey," she headed upstairs, pulling her hair out of her ponytail as she went. Once in her bedroom, she went behind the dressing screen. She slipped out of her clothes and shifted. Shaking herself, she wagged her tail, everything should heal a lot faster this way. She trotted down the stairs before pushing the door open and going outside.

Bobby's junkyard made for exciting adventures, although she worried about the rust and sharp edges. She wandered over the far edge of the property, where the tall grass hid her almost completely from view. She rested her belly on the cool ground, instantly feeling better. She had an urge to roll in the dirt, but went against it, not wanting infect her stitches, if that was even a possibility. She bit at the grass, chewing as she looked up at the sky, the afternoon sun felt hot, but the rest of her shivered from something. She presumed that it was nerves, the past few day's events making her body still jittery and on high alert.

She wondered if Jo and Ellen went to see her while she was at the hospital, not that she really cared, the Harvelles most likely didn't consider her to be family. She hoped that they could meet up again and become friends, but she was still a little fuzzy as to what exact events transpired. Did she say something? What did she do to deserve a gunshot wound to the chest? She didn't blame Jo, if someone had walked into her bar and was a skinwalker, she probably would have shot the person too. She wondered how long it had been since she had eaten, feeling her stomach grumble a little. Grace continued to sit in this spot, thinking for a few minutes or hours, but either way, she didn't hear the sounds of gravel being kicked up and the impala's engine rumbling or the soft crunch of steel toed boots as Dean approached her from behind. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he sat down next to her. She barked and growled, turning on him, her hair straight up along her spine.

"Jesus Grace, it's just me!" Dean yelled, throwing his arms up in surrender. Grace sniffed the air, catching his scent. Deeming him to be the real Dean, she settled herself against him. "Scared the daylights outa me," he said, running his fingers through her fur. He sighed before lying down, letting the long grass tickle his nose and neck as it bowed down with his weight. Grace placed her head on his chest, hearing his heart beating. She could hear his heartbeat a mile away, but feeling it too, that made her feel safe. Secure. It was a constant, repetitive sound that filled her day. It made her calm at night, hearing his heartbeat, the slow steady beat, like a song. And feeling it, the little vibrations that pumped through his chest and body, was more soothing than any lullaby had ever been.

**Author's Note: Hope you guys like what's happening, it should (hopefully) get a bit more exciting here on out in the next chapter, so hold onto your hats! Please leave a comment or a message telling me what you think! I love hearing from you! **


	12. Fabio & Finalities

**Author's Note: I am so so sorry guys, this chapter has been absolute hell and I am still not happy with it. On the Brightside, it's almost twice as long as most of my chapters so yay? :S I was having a seriously difficult time trying to figure out what I wanted to have happen and I truly am sorry for the delay. If something doesn't make sense, please let me know, it's been a while (and by while I mean, like a year or two) since I've seen this episode, so the dialogue and everything's going to be different. **

CHAPTER 12

Grace stayed back to help out Bobby while Sam and Dean headed out for a hunt. It was supposed to be a quick trip, a few days at most, but on the first day, the boys came across something rather unexpected. That in itself is the usual, but this particular case left them speechless.

"Yeah, there's a stack of them in the bargain bin I think. The published went bankrupt so…" the man said as he led the boys to the back of the old comic bookstore to the metal bin that held all the books with slightly frayed edges or stained covers.

"And you're saying that there's an entire series based about this?" Dean asked, trying to comprehend what the hell he just learned. A book series. About two hunters. Two brothers. Fighting evil while looking for their dad.

"Yep, didn't do so great, it's got a small fanbase, but ya know," the man continued as he walked back up to the front of the store.

Sam rooted through until he found the first in the series. The bodice-ripping muscle men were strewn across the covers in Fabio-esque poses, the impala in the background. Sam's nose crinkled at the sight of 'them,' the brothers. There wasn't any mention of their last name, thank God, but the same basic premise was there. Sifting through the pages, Sam found several scenes, hell, maybe even the whole damn book, that neither he nor Dean had ever told anyone.

Meanwhile, Dean was busy looking through an old Zelda comic, smirking at the pictures as he went.

"Dude, three boobed alien. How hot is that?" he said as he held up the comic. Sam grimaced before grabbing the small stack of Supernatural books and walking back to the counter.

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"Bobby, I'm telling you it's creepy. There's details in here that we've never told anyone… Yeah, I know. Can you send Grace down here? Thanks," Sam hung up as he continued to flip through the books.

"We have to find this Carver Edlund guy," Dean said as he got up from his place on the motel bed. "We got any idea how to?"

"Well, judging from the website, it's a penname. We'd have to talk to the publisher to find out."

"Where's the publisher?"

"About an hour away."

"Grab your bag Sammy, road trip!"

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They got at the publisher's house in record time, just under an hour. The girl that greeted them couldn't be any older than 25, half of her face framed in white, the other black. It reminded Dean of a skunk and a little of Grace too. She had recently died streaks of her hair purple and pink for a case; Grace had gone under cover in a high school to gank the overly grabby janitor's ghost.

"What can I help you boys with?"

"We're um, looking to find the writer Carver Edlund? We're publishing an article about him in our newspaper."

"Oh really?" the girl said, trying to remain calm; it was evident that she liked the idea of some more news about the Supernatural books, "I can't give you his information. Writer – Publisher confidential."

"We're big fans," Dean said, giving the girl his best smile.

After what felt like telling the lady their entire life stories, the boys managed to get the name of the author. Chuck Shurley. Seemed innocent enough.

"So what exactly do you think we're dealing with?" Sam asked as he sat inside the impala, the Post It note with Chuck's information written in his hand.

"I have no idea," Grace said as she sat up in the back seat, the first in the series in her hands.

"Son of a bitch! Grace you cannot keep doing that!" Dean swore as he jumped. Grace grimaced,

"Sorry. Keep forgetting."

"How did you get in the car anyways?"

"You left the back window open," Grace stated simply as she read. Dean rolled his eyes, if there was one thing about Grace, it was that she constantly surprised him. "Ya know, this isn't half bad. Not that great, not that bad."

"Please don't tell me you're reading the damn things," Dean prayed.

She grinned,

"Well duh! Of course I'm going to read them! When do I show up?"

"The publisher said that they stopped publishing after Dean went to hell," Sam explained.

"You serious?! What the hell?! I am comedic gold!" Grace said as she leaned back into the seat, frowning. Sam supressed a laugh while Dean turned up the radio, the sounds of AC/DC filling the car.

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Upon arriving at Chuck's house, Dean turned around in the front seat and pointed a finger at Grace,

"You stay in the car."

"What? Why?"

"Because we don't know what we're dealing with."

"Well that's stupid. There's been plenty of times that we've gone in knowing nothing and now, suddenly, you want me to stay in the car?"

"Yep."

"Nope. I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not."

"Fine. But I'll be listening," she said as she tapped her one ear.

Dean got out of the car with a sigh, Sam waiting by the trunk.

"I forgot that she had that," Sam said.

"Super hearing?" Grace yelled, peeking her head out the window. "And FYI, it's not working as well. I blame you blasting AC/DC every time I get in the car."

"Well someone has to do something to get you to stop talking," Dean said, smiling.

Staring in mock offense, Grace stated, "You know you love it!"

Dean blushed slightly before turning up the walk, hiding his red cheeks from Sam.

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"Please don't hurt me. Where are we going?" the man cried, his bathrobe snapping in the wind as the Winchesters pulled him outside to the impala. Dean looked over at Grace and shook his head. She lowered herself from sight as Sam opened the trunk. Chuck gasped,

"Are those real guns?"

"Yep, real guns, real salt and real fake IDs," Sam said as he pilfered through the trunk, showing Chuck each piece.

"Oh God, is this a Misery thing? It's a Misery thing isn't it?"

"No, it's not a Misery thing. But if you don't stop doing whatever the hell it is that you're doing, you're gonna have the Winchesters to deal with," Dean stated, shoving Chuck back towards the house.

"Wait, what? How did you know their last name? I never told anyone. Not even the publisher."

Sam and Dean said nothing, just stared at the smaller man, their eyes unblinking.

"Believe us now?" Sam asked, closing the trunk. Chuck nodded fiercely. Grace raised her head to look out the window, but Dean shook his head. She ducked back inside, sinking herself down to the floor.

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"So what exactly are you Chuck?" Dean asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against an old shelf opposite to the man in the bathrobe. Sam took a seat across from Chuck's place on the couch.

"I must be a god. A cruel, capricious god."

"Chuck, you're not a god, okay?"

"Well how else would you explain it? I write and people come to life!"

Dean sighed, already exasperated.

"You're not a god. You're probably psychic or something."

"What happens when you get these visions? What leads up to them?" Sam asked, his voice steady.

"I uh, I get these really bad migraines. Doesn't matter how many Advils I take, they just get worse. So I drink. A lot. I pass out and then I dream," Chuck explained as he looked back and forth between the two brothers.

"How much do you know about us?"

"I dunno. I'm assuming everything… Wait, is Grace with you?" Chuck asked.

"What's it to you?" Dean retorted.

Chuck shuffled over a few inches, wrapping himself tight in his bathrobe.

"Nothing nothing. I was just wondering."

Dean hesitates for a second before walking out the front door, his jaw locked.

Sam sits awkwardly, struggling to comprehend what it is that that's going on. He wracks through his brain, searching for anything that resembles what Chuck is. The last time he himself had had visions were when Azazel had taken him and the other psychic kids to the old Western town. Asides from Missouri, he wasn't sure who else they had met that were remotely psychic. What the hell was Chuck?

Chuck glanced around the room, shifting in his spot.

Grace entered the room second, Dean walking in front. She muttered something about it being damn time that she was brought into the conversation. Dean rolled his eyes as he went back to his place, leaning against the doorway.

"Hi," Chuck said as he stood up, extending his hand. Grace shook it with enthusiasm, her smile radiant. Chuck visibly relaxed. "You're Grace?"

"That'd be me," Grace replied smiling.

"You're a lot prettier in real life," Chuck stated, clearing his throat after. Grace blushed. Dean stared, his face not impressed, before taking a step forward,

"Okay, enough googly eyes, we need to know what the hell you are."

"He's a prophet of the Lord."

The group turned to face the angel, whose face had grown rather haggard, his hair ever windswept, his eyes seemed tired, despite angels not needing sleep.

"Cas?" Dean asked, his voice suddenly strained. His mouth opened and closed a few times, speechless.

"Yes?"

"Wait, Castiel? The angel?" Chuck asked, wrapping his robe somehow tighter around him.

"Yes."

"Oh my God!"

"Wait, did you say prophet?" Sam asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"Of the Lord. Yes. He is to write what will eventually be known as the Gospel of the Winchesters," Cas stated matter-of-factly. The Winchesters, along with both Grace and Chuck, were stunned.

"Holy shit," Grace stated. "What does this mean?"

"I'm a prophet?"

"Yes. It is an honour to meet you Chuck. And, to answer your question Grace, it means that he is protected," Castiel replied.

"By what?" Sam asked.

"An archangel."

"Okay, so what do we do now?"

"You stop threatening him, Chuck is to be left alone."

"Well what about these books?" Dean asked before tossing a copy of _Route 666_ to Chuck, "Can you stop writing them or something? We don't need every Tom, Dick and Harry knowing who we are."

"Uh guys, I have to make a living…"

"Well, it looks like you should buy yourself some khakis and a red polo shirt 'cause your job's changing."

"Dean."

"What Cas?"

"We need to talk. In private."

"Damn right we need to talk. Sam, you check us into a motel, we're not leaving this town until this shit's taken care of. And Grace? You stay with Chuck," Dean ordered before him and Cas left via Angel highway.

Sam stood up with some hesitance, unsure if leaving Grace alone with a soon to be very drunk and pain ridden prophet, but a nod from her was all he needed to know that she would be alright. He left, the few books tossed aside being the only evidence of the Winchester's visit.

Grace leaned against the back of the couch, letting herself relax slightly. Chuck continued to stare at her, in shock at seeing his very real, supposed figment of imagination sitting in front of him, breathing and blinking.

"Sooooo… You're a writer huh? How'd you get into that?"

"Not by choice that's for sure," Chuck said, smiling weakly. Grace laughed. Finally getting the chance to look at her, at what had been saved and healed from her time in hell, was certainly something to be excited about. After all, it's not every day a writer gets to see his creation in the flesh.

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"I mean, what the hell Cas? What are we supposed to do? You're supposed to help us!"

For a split second, Dean saw the darkness rise up in Castiel's eyes, the cerulean blue that was normally calm, but here, a storm was brewing, the waves and splashes of white and silver that resided within the deep blue were overwhelming, and Dean took a step back from instinct.

"I am not your pet Dean, do not forget that. And you and your brother are more than capable of killing a few demons, we've seen you do just that on numerous occasions."

"I'm not pissed about that Cas, Grace got shot. Frickin shot and you weren't there. We needed your help and you weren't there!"

"You had it under control," Castiel stated calmly. He began to walk around the field that he had taken Dean to, the grass golden in the setting sun.

"Under control? She almost died!"

"I understand that Dean, but she is fine now. And you need to get your priorities in order. Grace is not the only person out there."

The Winchester held his tongue. If the burn in Castiel's eyes were any indication of roads he did not want to go down, pissing off an angel would be the route most definitely not taken.

Castiel continued,

"You need to focus on the big picture. If any more seals are broken, Lucifer could walk free. That is your main and _only _concern here."

"Fine."

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Chuck handed Grace a small cup of coffee, the beginnings of a migraine were evident in his eyes; the pulsating ache that throbbed behind his left eye was the first sign, usually followed by crippling pain that radiated from the center of his brain to the sides of his skull. He took his own coffee and poured what looked like a quarter of a bottle of brandy into the hot liquid.

"Want some?" he asked quietly.

"No thanks," she replied, placing two sugar cubes into the cup. "I'm good with sugar and milk."

"Okey dokey," Chuck said as he went to put the brandy back in the cupboard.

Grace laughed,

"Did I get that saying from you? Or did you get it from me?"

"It's all you home skillet," Chuck replied, smiling.

They sit quietly, the old grandfather clock that rested by the doorway ticking away, filling the space with the sounds of chimes dinging and the tick-tocking of the timepiece.

"I have a question, and you don't have to answer it if it's too personal," Chuck asked.

"Chuck, you're writing a book about me, well, Sam and Dean, but you know what I'm gonna do before I do it, so at this point in the friendship, I'd say nothing's too personal," Grace laughed.

"Okay… Would you do it again? Hell?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Really? Why?"

"My mum and sister. We got the chance to do the things we wanted to do. My mum got to see my sister's dance recital. We went back to the beach again and fed the seagulls. We finished Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. We appreciated every day, even the bad ones. Even if I didn't get the full deal, I'd still do it again. All over again. They were my family Chuck, I die for family. I will always die for family," Grace replied, as if it was simplest thing in the world; which, in a way, it was. She would always die for family, and would continue to die if that's what it called for. Always.

"I'm sorry Grace, about everything that's happened to you." He felt the need to apologize to Grace, she was, after all, a pseudo Winchester, having experienced her own trauma throughout her life.

"Don't be. You didn't do anything."

"I know, but I am, just the same."

"You're a good guy Chuck."

"I just wish Sam and Dean thought that."

"Don't worry about them. Sam thinks you're pretty chill. A little odd, but I'm sure most prophets are," Grace added, "And Dean's just protective is all. He'll come around."

"I hope so."

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**Author's Note: So here we go home skillets, another chapter up. Feel free to leave comments, criticisms etc. And keep an eye out for my Criminal Minds/Supernatural Crossover fic, it should be posted within the next week. And I'm also working on a Hannibal fic, so hooray for more guts and gore by yours truly. **** Chat with you all soon! **


	13. Hansel and Gretel We're Not

**A/N: Hello wonderful people! I apologize for the lack of updates, I've been sick. Judging from the lack of comments on the last chapter, I think I can say that we shall all agree that that chapter was badly written and I apologize. Hopefully this chapter will be better! And just a reminder, if there's any particular ideas or scenarios that you want to see, please feel free to leave a comment or send me a message. And my Criminal Minds and Supernatural crossover is now up too. **

It had been several weeks since their meeting with Chuck. They had spent a few days with him, giving Grace enough time to clean his house – _what? You expect me to leave a prophet of the Lord to live in a soon to be rat infested hell hole? I don't think so! – _After going through what smelt like 50 bottles of bleach and more sponges than Dean thought was in existence, they finally left, leaving Chuck with their phone numbers and a toxic liver (whether it was from the excessive use of bleach or the alcohol induced visions, Dean wasn't sure which way Chuck would die first).

"I don't know how he could stand to live like that. God, it was awful. The mold. Jesus Christ, the mold!" Grace cried, her hands up in the air in disbelief.

"You need a minute?" Dean asked.

"To process just how much I wish I could bleach my eyes from how many dirty magazines I found? Yes. I mean, Chuck's awesome and all, but he's a slob."

"So you'll appreciate now just how not messy Dean and I are?" Sam asked from the back seat, having decided to stretch his legs out.

"Hardy har har. You guys are bad, but not that bad. Although I could do without the porn popping up every time I open your laptop."

Sam blushed,

"That was Dean!"

"You keep telling her that Sammy, I'm sure one day she'll believe it," Dean grinned.

Sam kicked his foot forward playfully, pushing Dean into the steering wheel, prompting the car to swerve over to the side of the road.

"You are children I swear to God!" Grace yelled, grabbing the wheel and straightening the car out. Dean turned back, his face stone, to look at Sammy who shrugged and laughed.

"Not cool man, not cool."

"Way cool."

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They had found themselves a hunt, a particularly nasty witch had decided to cast spells on the unsuspecting townsfolk of a small town. Her hideout, how cliché, was an old warehouse, empty except for a few boxes and chairs, the only problem being that it was filled with various rooms, nooks and crannies. The team decided to split up, despite Grace's protests. Luckily, the building was only two floors, making it easier to decide who would go where. Dean took the second floor, Grace the first and Sam, the basement.

It was a few minutes into the hunt that Grace started to feel nauseous, her anxiety starting up. It had a habit of doing such at the most inopportune times. Bile rose up to her throat as she struggled to hold back the vomit that had decided to make its way to her mouth. She promptly threw up, giving her momentary relief, until she realized that what had come up was a deep rich red. Blood. She didn't have time to breathe before the pain grew worse. It radiated from the pit of her stomach up her back and into her skull, the lightning fast pain shot through her, burned her from within. She fell up against the wall, trying to catch her breathe. _Hexbags. _She thought suddenly. Blood dripped from her mouth as she made her way to the stairwell, she headed down, it was easier to go down then up. She felt her knees grow weak as she threw up again, the blood splashing back on her as she held onto the railing, the metal wet with the vital fluid.

"Sam… Dean.." she croaked out as she fell onto the landing, the cool cement gave her a small amount of relief. She tried to turn herself over, to stop herself from choking, but it grew harder and harder to stay awake. She felt cold, and yet everything burned at the same time. A heavy darkness rushed in from her peripheral vision until the black engulfed her.

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Sam wished he had taken one of the other floors, the basement was small, short and cramped. He had to keep crouched for most of it, avoiding the cobwebs and spiders that had been left undisturbed for what looked like 50 years. Their research had shown that they were hunting a witch, not your everyday cursing the husband for cheating witch, but the ancient black magic kind. The stuff that few witches touched or even knew about.

Sam turned around, having felt something brush up against the back of his neck. He shot two rounds into the witch's chest, but she remained standing. With the flick of her wrist, she had pinned Sam up against the wall.

"You really thought that that was going to work didn't you?" she questioned, her voice high, presumptuous.

"No, but this should," Sam replied as he stabbed her in the gut, the blade soaked with the blood of a virgin on the full moon.

"_Where the hell are we supposed to get virgin's blood in 24 hours Sam? We aren't cutting into some kid!"_

"_I don't know Dean, maybe a blood lab?" _

"_There's no guarantee!"_

_Grace sat quietly, biting her lip. The brothers were pissed. It didn't take her skinwalker senses to tell that. Staying up the past 72 hours was definitely not something that they were going to do again. Tensions were running high and patience was spread thin. _

"_Uh, guys?"_

"_What?" Dean barked._

"_Give me the knife."_

"_What? Why?"_

"_Cause my blood will work"_

"_We get that you want to help Grace, but we need virgin blood," Sam replied. _

"_I know that. Give me the knife."_

"_But – but…" Dean started, his brain trying to remember if he and Grace had ever had this conversation. They hadn't. If she had ever said anything about her life at all, about her life before hell. She hadn't. _

"_Before you go getting your minds in the gutter, remember that when we got pulled from hell, we were like new again. I seem to recall Sam mentioning that you said that you were re-hymenized?" Grace explained._

_Dean blushed. _

"_Oh yeah."_

"_But even if that's not true, it would have worked anyways," she winked. _

_Taking the knife, Grace cut into her palm, the blade drawing a line of blood into her flesh. _

"_Hansel and Gretel we're not," she said as the crimson liquid filled the bowl, the few other ingredients floating and bobbing in the red. _

Sam snapped back to reality, focusing on the knife that was hot in his hand with the witch's blood.

"Night big boy," the witch said through gritted teeth as Sam twisted the blade into her heart. She collapsed to the ground, turning to dust as she fell.

Sam stood tall, his chest out, his breathing harsh as he stumbled out of the basement to where Grace and Dean were standing. Thankfully, Dean had found Grace just as she passed out. His own hexbag having been found and thrown out fairly quickly.

"You okay Sammy?"

"Been better. You?"

"Good. The bitch dead?"

"Definitely. Grace okay?"

"I will be a-okay once I shift."

"Good."


	14. Candy and Coincidences

**A/N: As I'm sure some of you could tell, I lost my steam for the story a while back, but I thought I'd let you know that it's back, so I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review! I love to hear what you guys think, what you like, dislike, etc. Also, if there's anything that you want to see, any particular scenes or concepts, let me know, I'm more than willing to hear what you guys have to say! **

The motel room was a warm welcome in the hours after the hunt. With the witch dead, the civilians of the small town safe, the Winchesters and Grace were finally able to rest. After stopping at a diner first, this, in hindsight, may not have been the best decision, as they were covered in dirt, blood and bruises. Grace still had small traces of blood left on her jacket collar and on her neck, the remnants of her hexbag still evident in her pale face and the six glasses of water that she drank.

Dean sat beside her, his arm around the edge of the booth, his hand draping over her shoulder slightly.

Sam was quiet, his appetite less than desired, not because of the obviousness of Dean's love for Grace (which was completely obvious by the way, but Dean would kill him if he said anything). Sam liked it though, seeing his brother happy for once. Grace was one of the few women, if any, that could keep up with them, both physically and intellectually. She was able to have deep conversations, having had a few with Sam about his previous relationships, particularly the tumultuous one with Ruby but also about history and goddamn, she was funny too. She fit into the trio pretty well. But like most things in the Winchester's lives, happy times are short lived.

"You okay Sammy?"

"Yeah I'm fine," Sam replied, holding his wrist, the twisted muscles sore from him hitting the wall. "Just sore."

"You don't look so good," Grace continued, reaching across to check his injury.

"I'm just tired. She got me good."

"Let me see," the young hunter said as she held Sam's hand, examining the tendons that joined his hand with his wrist. "It doesn't look too bad, I'd just ice it. Keep an eye on it."

"Thanks. And no offense Grace, but you look awful."

"Why thanks Sam, every girl_ loves _hearing that," Grace replied, her smile full of false bravado, but laughter real. He grinned.

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The next day they spent packing up and taking their time to grab supplies for the never ending stream of hunts ahead of them.

"Shit, I forgot to return the books!" Grace cried, holding the dusty old tomes in her hands.

"What books?" Dean asked from the bathroom, toothpaste dripping from his mouth.

"The books from the library. You know, the ones we have to return today so I don't get an ungodly huge fee when we come back."

"Uh Grace, we rarely ever come back to the same town twice," Sam replied, folding his shirts before placing them in his bag.

"I know, but it's the principle of the thing, I have never not returned a book on time and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Just a little paranoid of the librarian are we?" Dean asked.

"Hey, she was scary okay? Damn near peed myself when she told me to stop talking!"

"Well you see Grace, there's this golden rule at the library, it's called No talking."

"You think you're so funny don't you?"

"Obviously, I'm comedy gold."

"Hold the flirting off you two, okay? At least wait till I'm out of the room?"

"No can do Sammy."

"Guys seriously, I need to go back to the library, I need to drop those books off."

"I'll drive you Grace, I have to get some stuff at the grocery store anyways," Sam replied, grabbing the keys to the impala. Dean faked a hurt look,

"Wait, you're leaving me here?"

"Yeah…?"

"What am I gonna do?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something, _bitch_," Grace laughed.

"Hey, that's not how it goes dumbass," Dean yelled after her.

"Whatever bitch," Sam continued, a grin spreading across his face as he closed the door.

"You're the bitch," Dean mumbled under his breath before lying on the bed. Looking to his left, he noticed the small black box labelled _Magic Fingers. _Huh, he thought, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

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Returning the book had been less than a desirable task, as the librarian was indeed working that day. Grace was left to fight through the hordes of teenage and preteen girls looking for the most recent installation of yet another vampire love story, which ugh, if they knew the reality of what most vampires were like, they'd all be screaming and crying. Sam, fortunately for him, was outside in the parking lot, leaning against the impala, having already gotten the groceries at the local farmer's market. Dean wouldn't be happy with the assortment of fruits and vegetables, but Sam was hoping that Grace could convince him otherwise. They had an odd dynamic the two, the incessant teasing, bitching on both their behalf's, but there was definitely something there.

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Grace exited the library after a few minutes, the sunlight radiating rays of gold throughout the sky. She looked about the parking lot for the impala, having forgotten where exactly Sam had parked. Parents were shuffling their children indoors, a sight Grace was happy to see given the past few months she had seen more kids with mobile phones texting than she cared to count. As the parents headed inside, she noticed a small boy in the middle of the parking lot, looking rather lost. Grace turned to the parents, but they had already made their way inside.

"Wait, you forgot your… kid."

The parents stared at her for a second before turning back to their own children.

Grace made her way over to the boy, who looked no more than four at the most. A t-shirt that was ran down past his ankles was all that he wore, worrying her even more. What the hell was going on?

She crossed the parking lot, not wanting the kid to get hit by any vehicles, she crouched down to his level.

"Hey there little guy. Where are your parents?"

The boy sniffled, tears brewing in his eyes,

"Dinno."

"Dinno? Oh, you don't know. That's okay, I can help you find them! It'll be an adventure!" Grace exclaimed, trying to stop the poor kid from crying. "Say there, what's your name?"

"Sam."

Grace stopped. It had to be a coincidence. She looked over to where she saw the impala, expecting to see the hulking figure of the all mighty moose man, but nothing. No one. Maybe he was taking a walk, Grace thought, but Sam would've left a note, or waited. Shit.

"Sam huh? That's a pretty cool name. My name's Grace," she extended her hand, holding it out to shake, but the boy just stared. "What's your last name Sam?"

The boy sighed, trying to remember,

"Winchester."

"Shit."

"Tha's a bad word."

"I know little buddy, I owe you a buck," Grace replied. This was bad. This was very very very bad. Dean was going to kill her. And Sam, Jesus, what the hell was happening to him? What the hell was this? She had to get Dean. But kids were rambunctious, and how was she supposed to cart the kid – shit, _Sam_ – around? The impala was hardly what one would call safe, particularly for kids, lord knows a safety check was in order. What was she supposed to do? What do people normally do when their best friend gets turned into a toddler?

Taking a deep breath, Grace continued,

"Okay Sam Winchester, well, I happen to know someone who might be able to help us find your parents."

"No!" the little Sam screamed, before running over to the impala, trying to open the door to the back seat.

"Okay okay, I won't call your parents, but I have to call someone! I can't just leave you here!"

"No! NONONONONONONO!"

"Jesus, alright, okay, here's what we're going to do. If I give you…" Grace reached around the inside of the impala for a snack, "this here half eaten Snickers, is this even a Snickers? Anyway, if I give you this candy bar, will you get in the car with me?"

"Bruver."

"What?"

"I want my bruver."

"Okay, I will help you find your brother. But you gotta get in the car okay?"

The boy nodded.

Grace couldn't believe it; here she was, coaxing a small child into her car with a candy bar. And not just any child, frickin Sam Winchester. The Sam Winchester. Dean was going to kill her.

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"What happened?" Dean asked, the phone pressed to his ear. "I didn't catch that."

Grace sighed, looking over to her right, where a tiny Sam Winchester slept, chocolate smeared over his face. She had managed to stuff a few old blankets underneath him to prop him high enough to stop the seat belt from hitting him in the head, but it was still uncomfortable.

"I don't know! I got out of the library and he was just standing there, a little tiny kid, frickin crying, snotting all over himself, half naked might I add, and apparently, his name is Sam Winchester. Oh and he wants me to help him find his _brother_!"

Still doubtful, Dean replied,

"So you're telling me that you essentially kidnapped a small child from a public location in my car?"

"No, I'm telling you that something has happened to your brother Dean. I've seen that picture of you and Sam at Bobby's and it's him. I'm sure of it."

"Are you sure?"

"I just said I was sure."

"Is he okay?"

"Asides from the fact that he looks like he's half starved to death and exhausted and oh yeah, HE'S A FRICKIN TODDLER, sure sure, he's fine."

"Grace,"

"Sorry, just freaking out a little over here. But yes Dean, I think he's okay."

"Good. Just get here as soon as you can. Don't take any main roads, we don't need anyone thinking we kidnapped him."

"'Kay."

Dean hung up. _What the hell?_


	15. A Lifetime Ago

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks to all those that reviewed, I love hearing what you think! This chapter does contain some violence and minor gore, so to those of you that are squeamish, I apologize. I don't think that it's too graphic, but please let me know. It does have to do with Grace's past, so it is rather important, but I can send you a message telling you what happened. It does not take up the entire chapter, so you can scroll down to the rest of the chapter. Please feel free to leave a comment, criticism, etc! I do not own Supernatural, just Grace. **

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Grace looked to her left, the sleeping form of little Sammy Winchester sat next to her, having curled into a ball throughout the drive. His sandy blonde hair was shorter than the old Sam's hair, with a few sparse freckles across his face. He was surprisingly tiny for the gigantic Moose-man that Grace was used to. He couldn't have been more than three feet tall. His nose was scrunched up, like he was trying to stop a sneeze. He had managed to lie nearly completely horizontally on the seat, resting his head on Grace's thigh. She brushed his hair to the side with her free hand, then rested it on his cheek, chocolate rubbing off onto her hand as she pulled away to roll down the window slightly, letting a breeze wash through the car, cooling them both.

It had been years since she had been around a kid. Her sister, May, had been almost a nine when Grace had last seen her almost 12 years before. It had been sunny the last day they were together; her mum and her sister and her. They had decided to go for a drive as Grace had just completed her driver's license and wanted to show her sister the country and the night sky. Her mum sat in the front seat alongside the two sisters, telling them stories of her childhood. How proud she was of the two of them. It was moments like these that Grace felt the happiest, and in some ways, the saddest. She knew that in a few years, her life would be over. But it was worth it, seeing her mum and sister like this. They would be happy. Her mum would be alive to look after May, that was what was most important.

Engulfed in her mother's stories, Grace didn't see the deer. Nor the man with charcoal eyes that scared it onto the road. She swerved to avoid it, throwing her arm across her mother and sister's chests, shielding them from the impending hit. The car drove off the road and over the guardrail and down into a river.

Grace was the first to wake up, the first to feel the pain of glass in her chest and twigs in her hair. She looked to her left, to her mother and sister, to find some solace or safety in her mother's eyes, but there was nothing. Blood covered her mother's face, dripping from her nose and top of her skull.

"M…om…. Ma…" Grace stuttered out, but neither responded. Grace grabbed May's face, trying to wake her up, but May's head fell at an odd angle. Grace screamed, having realized her sister's neck was broken, the trauma of the crash too much for her small body to handle.

Grace screamed again, trying to wake her mother from a sleep she wouldn't rise from.

"This wasn't what was supposed to happen! You were supposed to keep them safe!" Grace screamed to no one. Her vision was leaving her, the edges turning black.

Water was filling the car, already up to her waist, the liquid heavy against her body, against her chest. In the moments before her death, Grace turned away from her family, the only people she had ever loved. She couldn't see them like this. Wouldn't see them like this. It couldn't end like this.

"I'm sorry!" she sobbed, "I'm so sorry. I tried. I tried so hard mama. May, I'm sorry!"

The man with the pitch black eyes watched from the edge of the road as the car sunk into to the bottom of the river. Everything had happened according to plan. Their bodies would be found in a few days if they were lucky, the route they were on was hardly used any more. No matter though, the girl's soul would be arriving in hell in just a few precious seconds. The demon always loved to watch the demise of his clients, especially those that were premature. Wiping some dust off the shoulder of his suit, he continued down the road, a whistle on his lips.

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Grace pulled into the motel, the sun at its peak. As she parked the impala, Dean exited their room, his face stone. He went to the passenger side, Grace stayed in her seat, not wanting to wake the young Winchester just yet.

"Dean, I'm so-"

"It's fine Grace. Just help me get him inside," Dean replied curtly. Grace sighed before gently shaking Sam from his sleep. He moaned before pushing her hand away. He picked his baby brother up from the seat, the leather sticking to the boy's tiny legs. Dean held Sam close to his chest as the two now eldest hunters headed inside, the groceries in the back seat forgotten.

Once inside, Dean placed Sammy on the bed, having already laid down a blanket on the bed, the flannel soft against the Winchester's skin. Dean sat next to him, to this now young Sam. Grace stood in the doorway, unsure as to what to do. What does one normally do in this situation? She had the sudden urge to make tea, the hot liquid usually calming, but given today, Grace knew that the tea wouldn't work. They had to call someone. Bobby perhaps?

As though reading her mind, Dean stated, without looking away from Sam,

"I called Bobby. He's heard of this happening before, so he's looking into it."

"I'm sure he'll find something Dean."

Dean simply nodded.

"Do you want me to pack up the car?"

"Please," Dean replied. "And Grace?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you drive?"

"Absolutely."

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The ride to Bobby's was a quiet one with Dean sitting in the backseat, holding Sammy close. Dean had asked Grace to turn on the radio, filling the car with the sounds of mindless garble and the occasional and repeated run of Call Me Maybe. Through the sound, Grace could hear Dean humming Hey Jude, and whether he was humming to soothe Sam or himself, she wasn't sure.

It was dusk when they arrived at Bobby's, the setting sun having left remnants of gold and pink off to the west. Stars had started to come out, the darkness of the night overwhelming the warmth of the sun.

Bobby was standing on the porch, a number of books in hand, with a stoic look to his face. Even with the beard, Grace could see from the lines on his face that he was worried. Witch's curses were the worst, and the amount of time for curses depended on how spiteful each individual witch was.

"Hey Dean. Grace," Bobby nodded.


	16. An Interesting Development

**A/N: Hey guys, I am so sorry about the lack of updates, and I hope this chapter makes up for it! Let me know if it doesn't make sense, its kind of an information overload in this chapter. I do not own Supernatural, although I wish I did. **

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Hey Bobby," Grace replied, grabbing their bags from the trunk of the impala. Dean continued to hold onto Sam; the boy's arm wrapped tightly around his older brother's neck. Grace could hear Dean's accelerated hearbeat, see the tension that lined his jaw.

"Have you found anything?" Dean asked as they walked up the steps and into the living room.

"Nothing useful so far," Bobby replied, "I have a couple of contacts that specialize in witchcraft, so they'll tell us if they find anything…. How is he?"

"He slept the whole way here, but overall he seems okay."

"How did he feel after the hunt?"

"He seemed tired, a little off, but nothing too bad."

"Does he recognize you?"

"Not at all. I think he still thinks that Dean's little and John's still alive," Grace replied as Dean laid Sam on the couch before sitting next to him.

"Do you have any idea how long this'll last Bobby?" the eldest Winchester asked, his throat tight.

"I'm not too sure son, the books say it could last anywhere between a few hours or days…"

"Any cases of it being permanent?" Grace asked, concern written on her face. Dean glared at her. "I'm just asking Dean, we have to know what to expect."

"Which is what exactly?" Dean asked, rising up from his spot next to Sam. "That Sammy's stuck like this?!"

"Well, if there's a possibility, then yes!"

"How are you so calm about this?!" Dean argued.

"Because I don't know what else to do! I don't know how to respond right now okay? I'm freaking out!" Grace yelled back, her voice shrill. This was too much. With the sudden rise in voices, Sam whimpered slightly in his sleep. The trio of adults stood silent, remembering they were not the only ones there.

"Shh, it's okay buddy, go back to sleep," Dean whispered, tucking the blanket in and around Sam once more.

"It'll be a few days before my contacts call us, but until then, we'll keep looking Dean," Bobby stated as he placed his hand on the hunter's shoulder before turning back to his desk and books. Grace continued to stand, biting her nails. "Grace, there's a couple of books out in the garage that might help, can you grab them?"

"Sure Bobby," the skinwalker replied.

As Grace exited the house, she took a deep breath, inhaling the night air. The scent of dew drops, fresh grass and motor oil filled her lungs, washing over her body with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. A storm was brewing, she could feel it.

As she looked through Bobby's garages, plural, cause Bobby had like, five, Grace stumbled across a variety of things. For one, she found an old toy car, something she assumed was from the Winchester's childhood. Pocketing it, she figured Sam would like it when he woke up. Second, and big surprise, it was an old baseball cap, the fabric torn and frayed from the years of weather and wear.

She continued to look for the books, humming quietly to herself, getting lost in the tools and trinkets that Bobby's garage held, that she didn't hear the distinct sound of feathers.

"Grace," the angel spoke, his voice deep and rough.

"Cas! You scared the shit outta me man, what the hell?"

"I apologize."

"Hey, are you okay? You don't look so good Cas," Grace replied, noticing the lines and deep purple that rested underneath the angel's eyes. "In fact, you look awful. Have you been sleeping? I know angels don't do that but you should really re-consider."

"I am fine Grace, but thank you for your concern."

Grace paused, never having heard the angel express gratitude before,

"You're welcome and remember Cas, you're family. So if you do ever need to crash somewhere, you can always bunk with us."

"I don't understand how I would crash, angel landings are normally far more graceful than that," Castiel replied, his head tilted slightly in confusion.

"It's a figure of speech, but that's not what's important. We really need your help. A witch changed Sam into a kid! Do you have any idea on how we can fix it?"

"I'd have to look at him myself in order to determine whether or not I will be able to help him, but yes, I shall see what I can do."

"Thank you Cas."

Grace bent down to where a small stack of books were piled, grabbed the right ones and made her way back to the house. She turned, expecting to have Cas at her side, but he remained standing back at the barn.

"Cas?"

"I need to speak with you Grace, it's critical."

"Okay… well Dean and Bobby are inside, I'm sure they'd like to hear it too," Grace suggested, nodding towards the house.

"Alone. I need to speak with you alone," the angel responded, his face solemn.

"Alright," Grace said as she took the few steps back towards Castiel, the grass wet under her bare feet. "What is it?"

"Its about Alistair." Grace blanched, but stammered out,

"What about him?"

"The angels can't locate him. We believe that the demon Crowley has him."

"Wait, King of Crossroads Crowley?"

"Yes."

"I don't understand. Why is that an issue? Aren't you guys supposed to be stopping the apocalypse?"

"We are, but we believe that Alistair has information pertinent to our situation."

"How can I help?" Grace asked. Despite having kept on eye on Grace and the Winchesters for the past year, Castiel was still surprised by her ever willingness to help others. He liked that about her. Having been a soul pulled from hell had left some people with irreparable damage, uncaring, but Grace thrived.

"The angels are currently scouring hell looking for Alistair, as we are unable to gain a location on him here on earth, but so far we have come up empty. We know that Alistair wants to start the apocalypse and has the knowledge to do it, so if Crowley is holding him, we believe that the world is safe for now."

"Wait, you're putting the world's safety in Crowley's hands? He's a demon Cas!"

"I understand that Grace, but he doesn't want to start the apocalypse any more than we do."

"You keep saying "we," but do the other angels know?"

Castiel paused, staring down at the ground before looking up at his friend.

"No."

"No? What do you mean "No."?" Grace replied, deepening her voice to match Castiel's.

"The angels cannot know that I am working with Crowley. They won't understand."

"I don't understand."

"The angels believe that by killing the first seal, it will stop the apocalypse."

"Dean? They're going to kill Dean? Oh my God!" Grace panicked as she started to run towards the house, to warn Dean, to stop the angels, to save Dean, whichever came first. Castiel appeared before her, preventing her from getting within 50 feet of the house.

"You misunderstand me Grace, Dean is not the one they are looking for."

"What?" she cried, confused.

"Dean was not the first seal, he _broke _the first seal."

"Wait, so the first seal _is_ a person?"

"Yes, but in hell, most of the tortured souls look similar, broken, and because we were not there with Dean until after he started working with Alistair, we don't know who the first seal is. If we can find Alistair, we can determine who the first seal is and end the apocalypse."

"How do you know that you can trust Crowley Cas, I mean, the guy's a demon!"

"I assure you that I don't like the situation any more than you do Grace, but I have to do something," the angel replied, sitting down on an overturned tire. He looked exhausted, worn out. Grace sat down next to her friend, the books resting on her lap.

"Cas, is everything okay?"

"No, everything is most definitely not okay. The world is ending and my brothers, they…"

"They just don't get it?"

"Yes… It was never this complicated, it was far simpler before the apocalypse," Cas stated casually. Grace laughed slightly,

"It certainly was, wasn't it?"

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPSNPSPN

After checking Sam, Castiel declared that the youngest Winchester would most likely return to his normal self in a few weeks.

""Most Likely. A Few Weeks"," Dean mocked his friend. "What the hell kinda help is that Cas? You expect us to wait this out? To just leave him like this? What if he doesn't go back to normal huh? What do we do then?!"

"Dean, I'm trying to help, but there's very little I can do at this point," Castiel replied, obviously irritated.

"Why can't you heal him?" Bobby intervened.

"Because physically, there's nothing wrong."

"_Nothing wrong?_ Nothing wrong? Cas, he's three years old!"

"I understand that Dean, but he's not injured and I can't heal curses."

"Some help you are," the Winchester grumbled, grabbing his coat. Castiel turned away from his friend, sighing.

"Anything?" Grace asked as she entered the kitchen, having spent the better half of the night chasing after little Sam, making sure that he didn't fall or accidently impale himself on one of Bobby's many weapons. _Jesus Bobby, you gotta start putting these damn things in sheaths or something._

"Nothing useful," Dean replied curtly.

**A/N: Let me know if it makes sense, I wrote this at around 2 am, and my brain conks out at around 10 at night, so Lord only knows if this makes any sense. Please review! Gives me a boost! **

**Next week, Dean makes a trip to Walmart and he learns that Grace is somewhat of a health nut when it comes to Sam. **

**"Oh my God Dean we are not getting canned peas, do you have any idea what the hell is in canned peas?! Death! That's what's in canned peas! Buy some fresh ones AND Cheerios... Why is it so hot in here? God, how do people stand being so crowded? ... I need a drink. Please tell me they have beer here." **


End file.
